Next Time

Something has fallen and broken
in a nearby room.

It sounded like 
diamonds scattering
over flagstone tiles.

There are no diamonds
or flagstones here, though.
Something poorer

must have tumbled, then.
We should go and see
what it was, what might need

to be gathered,
what should be discarded,
what might need repair.

But we’re not moving.
Sitting here speculating,
imagining diamonds

and stone or else
terrifying ourselves
with fabricated demons 

and myths about 
the end of the world
coming in the form of 

a shattered vessel
for what we held dear.
But look outside — 

there’s the world
as always, either ignorant of
or unbothered by what we

most fear. Time
to get up, high time,
someone says.

Ah well — the seats 
are so comfortable.
Next time, maybe. Next time.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

One response to “Next Time

  • Eileen

    Yes, still pretending that we can still be safe and comfortable once again, while the world as we saw it shatters like Humpty Dumpty and all the King’s horses and all the King’s men will never be able to return the world as we thought it was to us again. That’s the coming loss….the illusion of safety from the delusion of innocence.

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