A Slice

Light slides under a night time of broken glass
Brittle 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 243 times
Written on 2022-11-25 at 23:41

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