Outer Bezel

  Shall never see death

  Can’t say I missed it. It was all there at the tip

  of my outstretched courage, fallen kingdoms

  and future kings, the mistaken cure, the accidental

  miracle. Like wearing God’s glasses

  and creeping across the edge of

  his mighty watch, the glassy sphere

  of her clock. Out here in the corners of things,

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  everything collects. The lush garden, sprawling

  with apples and eternal life, sharing a plot

  with the Subway on Main and the hidden

  harbor in Peru. Pirates plundering the wealth

  of astronauts, warriors battling the books

  accountants balance. Alice’s pale rabbit

  does not prance or prowl here. Skate across

  the glassy surface and smile at the clock’s

  hands—either moving too fast to see, or too slow

  to notice. The history of everything on display,

  ticking down to a new creation, an old destruction.

  I guess I’ll never be late again