6:00     eager angles
striving to mark
the books
as they die
and pass into dark memory,
their only hope of eternity.

6:03     carried on by the sand 
shifting at leisure
defiant
in its speed
always contradicting wishes
you try imposing when it matters

6:05     sitting in the chair
running charged hands
through hair
biting nails
tapping out march time
with my relentless fascist foot.

-BTBowen