What’s to be done when every Yes
invites a No, entails a loss?
When saintliness incurs a cross
and certainties earn less and less?
The head works hard to sift the mess,
but since the rest is much less smart
it tends to tilt the apple cart
right back to Adam’s tiff with Eve:
she wants to know, he to believe.
And yet they cannot live apart.
—Rhina P. Espaillat, closing stanza to “Impasse: Glose,” from Rehearsing Absence: Poems (University of Evansville Press, 2001)