Dead by Noon


It enters the world with a shout:
the infant morning glory
trumpeting a blue that
could hypnotize demons--
blue that quenches the fires of rage,
a stratosphere of blue sucked
into a joyful funnel.
It is at that drunken blue moment
we believe this goddess
could live forever,
just as we sometimes feel
now is forever.


Will injustice always rob
the dreams of crippled spirits?
Will evil forever be rewarded?
Good forever punished?
A howling cyclone lays waste all reason
How long, how long
will the wreckage whirl past
dazed eyes, the wind swirling, swirling
down the vortex of ever-expanding time?
Time, enemy, die!


And then it happens:
Before the sun invades the south
and the sky becomes a chrome helmet
for creatures to worship or curse,
the goddess pants and fades.
Satin iced with fairy-sized pools
collapse like Troy.
Time, beloved friend, live!


The sun, enthroned now, embroiders
life into clouds;
The Almighty Now is just a dot
on the vast script of infinity.
Today's insanity is tomorrow's reason.
Reign no more, injustice--
You too shall turn to dust!


by Patricia Joan Jones

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Gareth Sgail's picture

A world in the lines of a poem. Nicely done.