The Angle of Time
Under the angle of time
There is a coordinated effort of transparency.
In the utter lack of outer space
We’re all running back to the woods.
A sacrament unadorned, raining onto our heads,
Into our eyelids, into the taste buds.
I don’t plan to imagine anything.
This is a construct of destiny.
A destiny that works backwards,
Changing the past from the future.
Like a doctor with a time-traveling suture.
However,
Every star fades.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
