Ruck Sack

Waiting for you feels like time’s exploding,

Snapping in fractures, folding, gurgling up distant visits and distant faces.

And then there’s you,

Trembling between two plates of time hurtling towards each other – one- two – seconds from tomorrow.

 

You remind me of a lost dog who’s forgotten his tail and hind-legs.

 

Blow me your last mistake, boy, for time is lurching at your face.

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