'There is, at midnight, a swoosh,
a backward sound
unheard at 6 o'clock.
Time licks the moment,
the bells, the knock on
tomorrow.  

We amaze
as dawn asks for its
audience and our last
guesses fade into
today.  

Nascent trails
of memories rise and
fall

into the rescue mission
the sunlight brings on
feet of clod.

It will be a day of reaching
into the pocket of love
newly incarnate.  

You
receive me.

Caroline Shank
March 3, 2025

Timing couldn't be any worse
We were living in a makeshift flat
While barely making ends meet
But we always wanted a baby
So we were thrilled anyway

Yet life had other plans
Of loss and unbearable pain
As it does over and over again

My fingers swipe away
Every instinct telling me to text you
Your fingers swipe away
Every instinct telling you not to respond
And every response takes longer
And I can hold out a little more
But I wonder if I'm in your head
Cause I can't do this anymore

If I linger in our favorite spots,
One day you'll find me.
The longer I stay,
I realize you're not coming.

A drunken god has
spoke you into existence
A stolen diary that told you,
it’s a sin to return this body
even if its weak bones
couldn’t carry the weight
of your heavy heart

I know I can speak myself out of it
With a blade in my hand
standing on the edge of the stage,
I’ll wait for the Almighty to sober up
and watch me steal his role

After twenty years of rehearsal
I’ll play god,
lights will go off,
and curtains will close

Your followers will clap in awe
at my convincing performance

As I bow before them
As I fall before you

I initially didn't understand what you said, but after a while I realised it was measured. It now seems excessive.