Time’s Up

My passage of thought echoes tick tick tick
like an unexploded moment, still
tightly packed, tense
–Yet death remains utterly asynchronous
to my effortless rendering of it.

I won’t cast the stones into the prayerful dust
sternly or frivolous. This speckling light
through the canopy hums . . . .
It’s a shock–I understand; to understand at all–
that daylight can wane.

However, lest I delay (an anxiety itself)
Let me deepen the shades and confess:
The final expulsion (even of stardust!) is fruitless,
And I haven’t even yet considered
their explanation . . . .

Copyright 2012 by Michael Marsters.
All rights reserved.

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4 thoughts on “Time’s Up

  1. ‘My passage of thought echoes tick tick tick
    like an unexploded moment, still
    tightly packed, tense’

    Fell dizzingly into this opening, Michael, and read the whole poem over a few times–feels like a treasure chest to dig deeply into.

    Like

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