Grappling cells into rushing tides
desperate for purchase and infiltration
pollute as they pollinate
clinging to the base of the spine as
neighbors with cars in the yard
and a dog that won't stop barking
from the time it takes to find a void, again;
the shaking sick-dog silence stretching
without soft hand to touch or
much-needed embrace
falling into shadows, heavy and woolen;
damp heat ever awning gawp of evening
beyond the window's reflecting and
pit of emptiness beyond
cold Waiting-for-Godot sweat, again;
I am not thicker than time and I thin
into trembling beaten patterns waiting
for a gentle pat on the head
Eyes focused ahead of me
but not quite locked in at all
I see two sets of eyes staring
back at me. Don't look to the future
instead look to see what's already happened
and hold it close to the chest.
