Marushka

A Year Since Last Summer

This morning I sit on the balcony and lose track of time. If I’m not careful, I lose a whole year.

My sunshine, my starlight, gravity and the void –

The coffee is kept in the pickle jar; that’s all you must recall.

“The River” – most every city holds this entity.

Lately, the apartment has reverberated to the sound of growling.

Steal the space that lets you live.

“Fact:” we’re exposed to the word early on, but most people’s usage is a little…non-factual.

A now-vanished newsstand held the seeds of understanding ambiguity.

Some days I want change. Today is such a day.

This fractal fate, this chance in time…