A seed of one thing confronts another
in the dark. Shameless date-stamped voices.
Fake-outs of studious poses. A light
snaps on—the plink of Daylight Savings.
I arrive to caress the dusty choices.
Hatchery of this for then and that for now.
On the package of Moon Flakes: the Sea
of Tranquility. Jugs, jars—balls to bat
toward the belly of infinity. Tap. Sniff.
My hand, the breaker of seals, bears down.
From so-forth and so on, the hand withdraws
as behind my back the numbers multiply.