The flags are flying at half-mast. 
It’s half-past ten and you’d think
they’d unfurled just for us,
the way we stretch, windblown,
and wrap around each other 
in bed. At this hour, it’s hard 
to get up without acknowledging
that flying is a kind of dream,
without feeling the night air sweep 
its acrylic under our bodies until 
we’re naked in front of our peers. 
Peer in and it’s just my mind. 
There’s nothing I know for sure 
and I’m sure many will note
even that is wrong. Why would 
I argue when you’re the heraldry
our family bears? It doesn’t 
matter what I say. It’s what you hear.

Jim Johnstone is a Toronto-based poet, editor and critic. His most recent books include The King of Terrors (Coach House, 2023) and Bait & Switch: Essays, Reviews, Conversations, and Views on ...