Elsewhere in Dreams

I can’t remember why I dislike you.
It was something you did or didn’t do,

I’m sure. Petty theft, I have stolen
the day we met, added a semicolon

and squirreled it away. Another occasion,
another chance to complete the equation.

Meanwhile, I’ve examined the debt
and it’s interesting. Not due yet,

but soon. Perhaps. Diagrams and charts.
Games of chess, of pool, of darts.

Time turns many slights to wounds.
Bastard child, not due yet, but soon.

Tags: poetry

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