When I reached the edge of the abyssal night,
in plain view of the condensation of stars,
when "us" was impossible
to carry rolled in my school backpack,
and it all became a fact,
without step back,
the conversion of yesterdays
closed in my bones,
It no longer mattered how I felt about
that fetus in a beaten belly,
into a deafening white noise...
When all is set and done
there is a crossing,
at the bottom of a creek
into yet another unreal future.
I'm about to take a leap
into the unknown
into the void remotely
writing you a poem.
Copyright © Roxane Aristy | Year Posted 2019