bound by the crawl of clock hands and twine
the ants are beneath
the magnifying glass
lensing Summer at noon
working the waiting
the hoppers are raiding
every now it can
roaming free
in the top sway rhythms
of wind in the grasses
I look for salvation
wrapped in plastic
to feel, is my greatest illusion
I wind myself up
watching the quiet dark
maintaining enough memory
so everyone but I
will believe there is truth
in all the lies
my prayers seek
twice upon any point
within each day
one can stop to wonder
why, for instance
the elliptical circus
of time tells us
to revere the constellations
their movements
their gyrations
of purpose, tied to trees
starved for daylight
they say, give us
collected throats
they say make them
warm and breast skin soft
so that we may eat
what your desire does to
guidance given over to fantasy
give us a hollow surrender
give us your eyes
tell us you have
no fight today
and we will loosen
what holds you
no one will look for you
in the empty end smell
of a Winter’s Moon
EJR ©
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