Present

I straddle a sheer peak
between what lies behind me
and what ahead.
Between them, me, on that razor’s margin
the Present
and what an odd gift it proves
being so rapidly still
being so tangibly untouchable
who gave it, anyway?
and do they accept returns?

Still I stand stuck
in that narrow trough
time dilating around me
those stretching days appearing longer
by virtue of how quickly I move past them
Has it always been like this?
you would think there would be
a brake somewhere
given the fast-approaching wall
and the insistence of those close to me
that this spot is good for dwelling
I swear it never moved like this before
surely this speed is some sick joke
I remember being smaller
and less worried
when this all began
my skin was softer then
to match the world
but these callouses suggest
the relationship changed
somewhere along the way
which causes me to cry out
someone please get me off this
horrible carnival funhouse time machine
before the very flesh
rots off my bones.

There is a soft
calm
in the voice that responds.

“There is stillness at the end.

At present,
the work remains.”