Feminize the clock if it needs it, then inhale.
Later on (the best time of day), we'll have other
bodacious disarmaments to look forward to:
doodled maps of digital neuropathies
raised up as art.
And with pleasures like those,
who needs signature moves? This question begs itself
not to linger too long in the threshold between us;
no need to fear another untenable sleep
from which to wake into a catastrophe
different from the one you'd hoped would compose you.
No, all the time in the world doesn't begin
to enclose such a stubborn infinity. Yes,
reinforcements are on the way, memories
marching to a tune as urgent as a feather
floating on the atom-scattering breeze
that sent your unbound biography scudding away.