4/7/10

if

(posting this under yesterday's date; I was in airports and on flights all day.)

she collapses three yards from
the finish line
in a mirage-puddle of sweat.

she wonders what it feels like
to wait;
time's always been
too fast for her
hurry, hurry


what if a moment of anticipation
were elastic, and it stretched
along a road of miles and miles forever?

i'll be there, she wants to tell them;
i'll be there soon.

and she opens her mouth
and no sound escapes out, but
they hear her, loud and clear, still;

i could have done better. 

No comments:

Post a Comment

in the wake of light, your words bring me more(please, do leave your fingerprints behind, so I may relish the image of our hands after you go.)