Image: Unsplash, downloaded (https://unsplash.com/photos/woman-in-black-pants-holding-white-textile-0otrWNo5lOU) 9.4.2024.
This Very Minute
Take this very minute, for instance.
Its paper windows and glass slippers.
Its scrabbled inferences. Its gloomy scowl.
This minute and its razzled planetoids.
Friable and glistering. Naked within.
All that saturnine moonshine to deal with.
Examine its meaty kilograms. Its mud wallow.
Its imperfect emanations. The odd stains.
The quantifications of ambiguities.
Investigate this minute's little box of trickery.
Firmly embrace the congenital flaws.
Follow its deconstruction carefully.
Everlasting and without dimension, this minute
is very tired, quite morose and somewhat drunken.
Its eyes are closing and soon we are no more,
this minute a notch in antiquity's bedpost,
a held breath in the hollow of a head,
a monumental plinth to our forgetting.
About the Author: Bruce McRae, a Canadian musician, is a multiple Pushcart nominee with poems published in hundreds of magazines such as Poetry, Rattle and The North American Review. The winner of the 2020 Libretto prize and author of four poetry collections and seven chapbooks, his poems have been broadcast and performed globally.
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