Timeline

It’s early | so early | to tell you | the story | of summer

When violet | beams lift | the shutter of | heaven | at dawn

So fast that | the marking | between day | and night | is a sharpened

Dimensionless | blade’s edge | in silence | partitioning | time

I live on | the brim | of the rift | demarcating | tomorrow

And watch it | unfold but | forever | am kept out | of reach

I stretch out | my arm | trying to touch | the new me | one day older

The person | who until | tomorrow | can’t really | exist.

I’m waving | and trying to | seek out | tomorrow’s | wise counsel

To prod and | inquire about | things still to | pass in | my life

While yesterday’s | me loudly | asks un — | divided | attention

I hear but | ignore it | since its present | has already | passed.