Another One About Being Tired

Alright, I’m going to need a moment.
A haunting sound, a haunting image.
A single sigh swathed in sheets of blue.

To think I once thought myself capable
of measuring the will of the earth
using only extremities.

I’m afraid I must retract the following:
past statements, past indiscretions, past lives.
Rosy dust coheres in an out-of-touch space.

I caress the finer points of time’s edge,
singing to myself and myself alone
a litany of little deviations.

-r. miller

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