All is all is now

a new poem, then,
without tangle
or predecessor
a true poem
born now as
mosquitoes bite
and sweat beads
and I’m not thinking of you
before the sun slips down
breathless and weightless
our story played out
against the night sky
I can’t help slipping into it
it’s a natural law here
momentum, inertia,
trajectories too expensive to alter
the moments sweep past
you and you and you
against the sky
a prologue, then, or epilogue

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Franklyn Monk

Poet. Geek. Science fiction aficionado. General freak.
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