Time
I dwell or rather exist
at this bone-hard time
of cold dark weather
of cold dark change
this time of closure
like the last grand closure
of the Morning Glory that the frost will kill tonight
I live in this time
of alienation
isolation
polarisation
even atomisation
that is saddled with an edgy solidarity
that was once as alive as the coral
of The Great Barrier Reef
— a hundred years ago—
they were both colourful
vibrant
now fossilising
turning slowly
inevitably
grey
then to limestone
immovable
and dead
then finally eroded
to dust
by time and determination
*
I live
—like a squirrel in a long-abandoned house—
in this grey-shell
bone cup
from which the worms
will one day drink
Like a squirrel
I save
I do that which was once peaceful
contemplation
of the turning seasons
and solar systems
that has morphed
into a savage
Rapid Eye Movement
frantic watching
of the last of the sand
falling from a broken hourglass
I watch the Doomsday Clock tick
with the same fascination with which
I would watch a flaming, fatal car crash
And as I watch the bone cup and its contents
harden and turn grey themselves.
