Neorânduirea firească a lucrurilor


I lost my temper
on a Wednesday morning,
trying to find
why my mindfulness’s blind,
grabbing a smile
of impetuous promise
from the top shelf of aching,
where the bitterness eyes
make a fool of the never
with a handful of nows.
Leave me a moment!
As far as surrender
is written in front of
these angelless skies,
leaking through edges,
the light is upsetting,
so I’ll find my temper
on a meaningless night.