On the twenty-third of June, the last missile was destroyed.
On the twenty-third of June, fires burned throughout Europe.
Young men leaped and tumbled in the waning flames, rivers and beaches
scattered with ash and empty bottles.
On the shores of a forgotten lake, I took your hand in mine.
I told you now was the time,
In this new dawn of fearlessness and insight, for us to be together.
You leapt from the log where you sat, half-shivered and rosy-cheeked, catching the hem
Of your cotton skirt on the edge of a branch.
On the twenty-third of June, I asked for your hand in marriage.
You told me you were in love with my cousin.
A baby was born in Ireland with one hundred and twenty-three freckles and the fairest complexion.
In Prince George, shots rang out and a small dog was caught in the crossfire.
A dope-dealer won twenty-five dollars on a scratch card in Williamsburg.
In France, the last of Hades was destroyed.
You were lonely, but you wouldn't be for always.
