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Irrevocable

It could happen on any day
really,
That singular,
almost tangible moment.

On the first morning of rain
after weeks
or even, months
of sunshine,
The diesel oil sky
reflecting down on peeling paint and
chain link fence,
the air heavy with the scent
of childhood freedom

It could happen in the womb
of a summer midnight,
naked in the still warm lake,
avoiding any contact with your
perfect,
star dappled,
body.

It could happen in your sleep,
somewhere in the stretches of oblivion
that separate your days;
in the implacable voice of the doctor, the unconscious movement of
picking up the telephone.

It happens in an instant.
The flick of a switch,
the clamp of a jaw,
one,
sharp,
intake of breath.

And you talk about it, worry about it, wonder about it.
You avoid it, deny it, explain it.
But the seconds sift down, inevitably,
To one single moment,
after which,

nothing is ever the same.

 

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