Dim

I learn the mechanics of fingers,
the recess into runaway clouds
teetering on the exosphere–

another tiny fraction of the universe,
decimal place moving to the beat
of our tectonics. How they callous

in interminable waltz; still,
when we waltz, time
does not grant that to us.

 

(originally published in Syzygy Poetry Journal, Vol. I, No. II)

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