Saturday, February 19, 2011


He reminds me of my contrivance.
With a start, my fragility wakes;
it had only just begun to rest,
taking a well-earned breath
after overwork, overstretching.

It's just a hair's breadth, so the wise
woman said,
between one state and another,
and as the white panic of imminence struck
she counted the pebbles beneath her.

It happens to be happenstance
that brings us to this here and now.
Such things cannot be contrived, you see
for they're easy to tame as a bonfire.

Let my words fly into the night, into
air, flickering, travelling to nothing.
Let not my thoughts be controlled by regret,
for happenstance plays, sways and quickens.

© 2009 Justine Reilly

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