Outer Bezel

Shall never see death

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Can’t say I missed it. It was all there at the tip

of my outstretched courage, fallen kingdoms

and future kings, the mistaken cure, the accidental

miracle. Like wearing God’s glasses

and creeping across the edge of

his mighty watch, the glassy sphere

of her clock. Out here in the corners of things,

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

everything collects. The lush garden, sprawling

with apples and eternal life, sharing a plot

with the Subway on Main and the hidden

harbor in Peru. Pirates plundering the wealth

of astronauts, warriors battling the books

accountants balance. Alice’s pale rabbit

does not prance or prowl here. Skate across

the glassy surface and smile at the clock’s

hands—either moving too fast to see, or too slow

to notice. The history of everything on display,

ticking down to a new creation, an old destruction.

I guess I’ll never be late again