Dates
hanging on the wall,
shout loud;
sometimes they whisper,
looming in the near distance,
On glossy paper,
days and dates, shout
in black, the Sundays
in red, as if to signify
something important;
also tangible.
Tangibly important,
the Sunday of the future!
Dates,
hanging…
looming…
falling
off the edge
of time
Is there a void somewhere,
filling with numbers?
one, two, three,
thirteen, twenty three,
thirty, thirty one.
A procession,
in black and red,
falling
off the edge
of
time.
