tom taylor

yesterday’s dread

today’s will be different, perfect in
it absence though the force fields do
not gather but claim your respite for
their own messages slighter than before

their specific gravity is not allowed nor
attuned to your own perchances in hidden
fog which yields but does not nourish
we don’t remember which but its new

and the slag pit ’down below’ but buries
the lesser shapes inside the coils of dirt
still it’s hard and unrelenting here in the
desert track now that we’re all settled in