Philip Gross – The Cause

 

Philip Gross
The Cause

No loss reported. No departure not matched by arrival. No light aircraft missing in the hills. But that – did

you see that? – single graceful fluting of a propeller blade, like the twist of a fish on the current, its leap for a fly

when we saw it tumbling slowly in the rapids, briefly lodged, then levering itself over the slick boulder, then jerking away,

was the start of a quest, a day’s then weekends’ trudges upstream, to find the wreckage there must be

(you can’t believe the silence on the news, the general disbelieving) leaving us to forge on, possibly

forever, up into the headwaters, in the ever-widening fractal logic of them, numberlessness,

into quaking-grass bogs, their soundless swallowings of secrets, or the secret

that there might not be a secret. Already it has been forever, and we’ve only just begun.