Suspension extends as far as my mind can know. A sleek and sliver thing, it hovers near days passing from one into another, a question posed and never answered. Things are sliding now, following one upon another into territory unknown, a space left untamed and perilous. Who we are pivots on not what happens next, but what we do next. Grace may win the day, or we may resort to base and strategic instinct. I am left suspended.
Categories: Poetry