//
bare granite
softly framed in sea-foam
steeping in twilight

the rarity of weightless overcast
receding into previous day

I am pulled between the edges of then and now
complacently losing the battle

and I place a bowl on that granite
with water seeping through its pores
half-washed
porcelain in defeat

pray I go back down and think a way out
but the waking hours escape me
for once turn the right way,
you flake, you human life

thank the paper blinds for sparing you the shame
of months and months gone by
//