Now... Poem by GRANT FRASER

Who cares
as you hit the memory
or the thought of it
right there,

on the fleeting
nail of purposes,

like the camera
as the engine trips
light,

grab the moment
out of the ground
or the puddle overflowing
down the entrails
of the mind,

you caught you
or what you saw
back then or knew,

a moment,
or fleck of time
clipped off!

a face, emotion,
truck noise,
place of release,

but what fall into?

the idea
that your going
somewhere, soon...

don't leave me,
wonderful face,
leave more room for
the body,

but death is out,
and even the young
folk know now,

that everything
could get snatched
away,

at any given second....