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More poems by Louis McKeeLouis McKee | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments | Books by Louis McKeeBooks by Louis McKee

Inevitable

Louis McKee

Somewhere in Forster—was it Aspects of the Novel?—
there's something to the effect of, 
How can I tell what I think till I see what I say?  
I've always meant to check the quote, but I'm half afraid 
it won't be there, or if it is, that I got it all wrong, 
and I pretty much like it the way it is—
I pull it out and toss it onto the table like one of those 
really brightly colored chips that only get thrown into the pot 
after the hand has gotten out of control and someone wants 
to say something a bit more heady than, I'll see you, 
and raise you, but that's what he always says, it's inevitable.  
In fact, it is inevitable, the word, inevitable, 
that has bought me down this road in the first place, 
that made me remember Forster, and whether or not 
something is inevitable—now, this is the leap—like, say, 
the week I just spent in Illinois with a married woman, 
who for a long time has been burning 
like one of those sad wildfires they have had 
all summer long out West, that gets bigger and hotter, 
and spreads, it seems, forever, and while this one burned, 
I kept telling myself that it was inevitable 
that we would end up in the same town somewhere 
at the same time, and inevitable, too, that after a few days 
one or both of us would allow our ambiguity 
about what was going on to get the best of us, 
and we both would walk off sad and hurt, 
when really it was not us who had a right 
to sad and hurt, her husband and children having 
a much better claim, and in the interest of terribly clarity, 
of unrelenting truth, it is necessary here to interject 
the word guilt, and while some people, 
those who buy into religion, for example, who touch 
finger to finger with the Hand of Heaven, 
all herb and clay-tinted oil, on a stone ceiling, 
will use Eve's apple to explain how all this is inevitable, 
part of some great master plan.  I wonder; 
or was it simply another test, an opportunity to 
do the right thing, and perhaps we failed, and I am not 
even sure about that, but I know that she and I feel guilty, 
and while I thought it was inevitability 
I was talking about here, it was something else entirely, 
and I guess old Forster was right, even if he didn't say it.


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Added: 24 Feb 2003 | Last Read: 18 Dec 2018 11:11 PM | Viewed: 3404 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/7929/ | Viewed on 18 December 2018.
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