is inevitable,
but I was not expecting
it to stop.
The clock.
It wasn’t just my heart,
breath clinging
half within – half without.
It was the glinty green fly
diving toward the patch of grass.
It was the styro coffee cup
cast down, about to clash with
a skateboarder – whose eyes
were scrunched mid-sneeze.
It was the cloud passing the sun,
the shadow, sudden
sick purple as a prune.
Oh!
My ears.
How loud the heartbeats,
like sirens, the sudden breaking
of barriers,
the flash of blue between our
eyes, the call of the ordinary wild:
the scrunch and buzz,
the splash between the
darkest end of time
and the blistering breach
of the beginning.
(And so ends Splashing the Divide.)
