poem

this is the price you pay for time traveling

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(I told you so)

stop flitting about like a stupid moth
blind despite the etched eye open and
unblinking on its downy wing

(What did I say)

choose a year or two — even ten –
to inhabit, unravel the silk of it, weave
sense into story as you sit.

(What did you do)

you flew. you flew! you cut through countries,
histories, whole decades like it was legal
to navigate between worlds.

(I warned you)

And now everywhere the air is foul
replete with turmoil. you turn hostile
a ghost trapped in the portal

(What did I say)

your dark velvet mouth spewing out
curdled black bile meant to hurt,
but inutile as strange fruit

(I warned you)

you’ve become a thing whose only threat is
the flesh that promises sourness
the pit filled with the intent to choke.

(I told you so)

You’ve become a thing

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“ you’ve become a thing whose only threat is

the flesh that promises sourness

the pit filled with the intent to choke.

(I told you so) ”

 

  — from a work in progress