I need a legitimate break, none of this three-day-weekend business. What I need is a full-on breather. Oh, and to find an apartment. That would be equally splendid. Come on, June, bring on the life experience. Just four more days and I’m all yours.
Until then, a poem.
An on-the-spot poem about fleeting moments
by Alexa L.
This is the moment when I miss you,
when I forget, for exactly two seconds,
that you’ve hurt me;
when I forget, for exactly two years,
that you’ve wasted my time.
This is the moment, full as the moon
when it’s new.
what we call a lapse
a predisposition toward
Like a leap year this moment comes,
or a scientific occurrence
involving light moving across stars,
connecting the dots of the universe
as you did the freckles on my back
with your fingertips,
tracing lines that curved like heartstrings,
tracing the outline of a target,
the bullseye where you’d later stab your knife.