Early is Late

 

The fan catches your words and as it stops

releases them for me to gather,

in fistfuls or earfuls.

 

A pacing moment like that–

when time fills space with all that it cannot promise,

when I resolutely resign.

 

Then wait:

for a motion that will trump my resignation,

for something both right and promising.

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This entry was posted in poetry.

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