we would have understood
if not for silence,
with its
gasping inversion,
thoughts all
drowning backwards;
if not for time,
with its
again
and
again
and
again,
its
unheeding
persistent
inevitable
inevitable,
time
always
eating
its own
carcass.
it would have been better
if we’d understood.
but we’d used up all our miracles already.
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