Too Late
Too Late



Outside the mailman moves slowly though snow drifts
everything is bleached, cold
bringing bills and other trash.
Me, looking out with frozen feet
I acknowledge
this lack of trust
this crisis of faith.

Bad feelings about 2018
I feel it too
With an edge of urgency
With a sharp tongue
I must compress
No dilly-dallying with the senses,
Get to the point
Before it’s too late.


– Vermont, 1.3.18



View the entire Present Continuous project here


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