Contrapuntal. Christopher Kondrich

Sometimes a ghost entered my heart and I could feel, and some-times phrases entered my mind and I could speak, with reason. But never was I able to stay a man long enough to remain him.

— Jeff Clark, “Napoleonette”

Whatever we do on the piano is a collection of illusions.

— András Schiff

So I take my hand,

and even though I know my hand,

I know I know it,

it feels like your hand.

I take it but I’m tired.

I know I’m tired because I squeeze

what I see between my eyelids.

Then I dream that your mind is mine.

I dream that I secure it

with my end of the rope.

I wake while saying

that what I say is the truth,

that you should believe me

because I say it.

Book One

If there’s one thing

I remember apart

from all other things,

that I remember it

is astounding to me

though maybe not

to Tim who I recounted

this to before I left,

I recounted that you

arrived home one day

fatigued as much as

I’ve seen anyone fatigued,

you could barely connect

to your life and in a way

you felt as though

it were repeating.

You were aware

that it repeated, but

you had no control,

all the little things

you did that day

were out of character,

you had been exposed

to T, the lab bustled

with dishes and you

wore the protective gear,

but you said perhaps

it wasn’t enough,

there could be no

other explanation

for your fatigue,

there had been no out-of-

the-ordinary activity

besides working

with the dishes of T,

which were introduced

that day by members

of a parent company.

When they presented you

and your colleagues

with Petri dishes,

you felt a little uneasy,

but mainly because it

was something new,

not because the dishes

caused some red flag

to pop up, you always

tell me of your uneasiness

when something new

enters your life and

you haven’t

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