Soon Beneath the Headlights

“Soon, my Darling, soon”,
The words proceed down
Like acid rain upon stilts.
I am the girl of yesterday,
A foggy storm fevered cold.
Have you met Tomorrow?
Rosy cheeks and rounded belly,
Breasts so ready to be suckled
Lips tainted with what is real.

Soon
A dangerous promise
With added sugar on the tongue.
A snow flake tasted with jagged edges;
Corners crept so unique
With an instinct to cut and rip and slit
The throat of the present.

Soon
I may die or dement or drag
Beneath an unmarked grave.
I may surrender or sleep or love
Another instead.
Or I may watch you diverge and decease
And breathe Breath’s last…

Soon is a terrible uncertainty.
I dare not vow it again.

9/9/14