RANDOM THOUGHT #12
By
April Salzano
Power blinks in outages.
Timers and clocks stop,
cannot reset themselves.
Minutes pass just as quickly
when we are not counting,
slip through the thinning space
between night and morning.
MY MIDDLE NAME IS DYING
a slow death that crawls
rather than runs toward the finish,
an elusive line that shifts like sand,
but is etched in nothing
weaker than concrete. Miraging
makes it appear further away,
but it will not recede, only wave
like heat, blur but return
with determination that does me in.
By April Salzano
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