Friday, January 22, 2016


You are not the one grace missed
In the balmy baptismal pool

The wheel didn’t spin on your turn
When you said - 

You clambered on to the bulls-eye
As the celestial marksman steadied an aim 
It’s a hit. Once

A thousand files moved
In the shredder, sliced 
Incinerator next, burned 
Saved, done

A billion synapses ripped
Data pads held against 2-ton magnets
Razed, renewed 

You are not the one grace missed
This foxhole is a plan, perfect