She waits at the end of it all, the beginning
Sits fresh in her hands.
She lives where it ends
She knows where it ends
Exhibits stretch out in wings
to each side, the past
can't abide, the future
can't die; for the present,
pretend that it's wide open now
- That all of these clear, interlocking locked strands
don't somehow prevent everything but one end
to all this wild time
No comments:
Post a Comment
Anything you have to say - question, critique, interpretation, praise or rebuke - is received with gratitude and interest.
If it looks like spam and contains a link, though, it will not be published. I will cherish it to myself, instead. Thank you!