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[47] teAChinG the trAGeDieS they see how lightly tragedies begin: old friends approach, trade jokes, then ask the whereabouts of someone else. inconsequential chit chat. i know by training what to think: invoking absent ones; that’s nature out of balance. But i stay quiet and watch my best take turns reading aloud. Premonitions, prayers, misgivings all uttered much as we ourselves utter such things without implying real belief in astral influence or providence. in the mutilated versions that restoration audiences knew finding the art in grief was just the same: the principal requirement of loss. then, all the afterthoughts of obvious but distant analogues. this morning’s work is metrics — harmless stuff, except for one: a girl whose lovely throat warbles what ought to be our longest vowels — our sad approach. i make her try again, knowing she’ll have to do the rest herself. ...

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