The Lag

A Poem by Thavius Erna

up They have seen nothing
Yet something must have slipped past
for them to grab hold of the thread
unbuttoning my promiscuous
Deliberations, which I have negated
No doubt.

Spaghetti and luke-warm tea
Trickling down their backs
Some raising their collars as if it's rain
Transmissions bogging their usual paralyzing streaming
that dissects the crowd
into two parts...

I am a reject
and even less so when no limbs
can come to the aid of this animal
talking to trees chosen to become
magazine scrap on the up side of midnight

Dangerous. Yet divine. These are no longer here
The lasting impressions you made
golden, brown, pocketed so neatly
so personally, are stored for a common goal.
But you will be credited.