Anticipation
Doppler dunes, once ancient runes
Approach. And I feel like
Crushed petals beneath its tiresome
March.
Did I want this
This new branch that trembles
As it unfurls in a world
That burns it into
Charcoal remnant?
Did I birth this yesterday?
I rolled die that lie.
If only there were some means to know-
But that’s the tyrant of the gamble.
I bet and fret
And wore down the rug before it was pulled
Away.
This day, with its portentous hold
Grips like a black hole noose
Consuming everything
All but that, which, one day, will ride out-
Like a flaming chariot
To be quickly doused
that thing that roused, within me
This
