Time has orbits

 

Time has orbits

Its apogee of indeterminate decisions

Veer closer as we were

In that photo

Or far away as we are now.

We became immortal yet died

On a faraway place

Your mother put her stomach into a flower garden.

Once we were a silver solution

In black and white,

Now a sort of real Technicolor

The blurring of time and blues

And whites

A musical serpentine

Eating itself into what

Is real.

Here I am still,

Look for me between

The breath in, and

The breath out.

-For Jerry R.

Ed Rosenthal 2015