Did you know there is a seam
opposed to our lives?

It lumps up,
a joint compressed.

It doesn’t matter,
does it?

Did you lie about it,
or accept it as the truth?

Whatever you do
is all you can do,

you decide. It it autumn,
after all. The season

of fires, of smoke,
of falling leaves and hope.

You never once felt
the pain of it,

never felt the seam give
an inch.

It sits ruptured on the junction
between what was yours

and what is not assigned
to anyone, and

the weather lends itself
to surprise.

Do you feel that?
Do you know the truth of it?

Whatever. Whatever.
Pay it no mind

until it forces itself
forward into space.

Until you find yourself
in it, and lose.

~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T