Countdown to Whenever

September 21, 2008

Its Friday and the clock is ticking.

The bug runs down my arm and then back up-
I am a universe, with no food to be found
a careless God, indifferent. Empty.

Five minutes more.

The bug is gone- the arm, proving unfruitful,
became a launching place for hopes,
for a quest- we must eat. Life as a search
for food. It starts with that.

Five minutes more.

The ice sublimes.
This has less to do with global warming
than it does with the fact
that the ambient temperature in my heaven
is double the temperature of the ice
and there is a balance to maintain
between my glass and the air.

Five minutes more.

Sweeping the porch of debris, I
had this thought that nakedness is viewed as sinful
by those who feel vulnerable,
and this has everything to do with the mind
and nearly nothing to do with skin.
The bug doesnt know it has no clothes.
It merely wants to eat.

Five minutes more.

The bug is back. Hating to disappoint, to be named Devil
and cursed, to fail in the ownership of the small
universe of arm and broom, I set the bug down near
the water ring formed by my sweating glass.
It seems to be drinking, but my eyes are too large
to see that small act.

who see with equal eye, as God of all
a hero perish or a sparrow fall…

Lyres92108