Undone

Summary

"Undone" is a reflective poem that contemplates the complexities of endings and the passage of time, tinged with nostalgia and the bittersweet nature of memories.

Abstract

The poem "Undone" delves into the intricate dance between past and present, exploring how moments fade and transform with time. It speaks to the futility of clinging to the past, as seen in the metaphor of music losing its power when reality intrudes. The narrative arc captures the essence of a relationship's lifecycle, from the initial spark of connection to the eventual disintegration, acknowledging the pain of endings and the erasure of shared history. The poem also touches on the theme of obsession and the illusion of control, suggesting that the end of a relationship can be as arbitrary and unpredictable as the landing of a time machine. The work concludes with a poignant farewell, accepting the finality of separation and the irrevocable loss of shared experiences.

Opinions

The author conveys a sense of inevitability in the decay of relationships, comparing it to a well-worn object held together by temporary fixes.
There is a critique of superficiality and the performance of emotion for applause, implying that authentic experiences are overshadowed by the theatrical.
The poem suggests that the concept of revenge is hollow, and that obsession leads to a cyclical pattern of destruction and self-destruction.
The mention of a time machine metaphorically represents the attempt to revisit and possibly alter past moments, only to confront the reality that some experiences are irreversibly lost.

A poem about the timing of endings

Music fails when the window goes down — he’s coming up the steps and you can’t see his bitter youth, time machine to years ago. Over and over, I listened to you.

Words unnecessary in the decades held together with duct tape and polish. Go back to the glue, the beginning, eyes meeting — see the spark before you look ahead to dancing through years, youth fading between.

Fast forward, hear me promise, hear things unkempt before disparate moments blend seconds before I fill the remains.

Where did the struggle go when all the practiced moves failed? Talk to me of the jut of survival so far removed from canned sound, trying too hard for applause, nothing behind the combination of shadow and glaring light.

Here she comes, let’s see revenge. Here she comes, tell her the other side of obsession — we’ve been there, we’ve been stalked, we’ve watched the house of cards fall down.

Old man, go home to your wife, child, put away the john hancock, money for the simple curves — uncomplicated dancing. There are no intellectuals behind the end of the affair. I’ll never see you again, either face or memory, when I walk away.

Maybe love died, maybe the time machine landed on it square and killed the impulse — erased a lifetime of moments, a lifetime, erased.

Originally published in Abyss & Apex, a Hugo-nominated magazine of speculative fiction.