A Slice
Light slides under a night time of broken glassBrittle green shards bleeding speed
Go quickly by,
Find a frame a faceless mirror race
The clock with choking armless hands
Armies of numbers,
Go filing every atomic act or play
Revolve as it flies into discrete pieces
Relative as pie,
Slices.
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers

Read 288 times
Written on 2022-11-25 at 23:41




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