Our Vestiges Of Chance Poem by Mark R Slaughter

That question –
It drifts among us
Like death –
God! it lurks
Inexorably:

So are we –
That certain something
That pervades the ‘You and Me’ –
Dead?

Has the last gear (or two)
Slipped out of synch
With what constitutes your silky mechanism? –
Now merely residue
Of love along the skin.

Do you recall
The vestiges of chance –
Once taken
(Now in history forsaken) ?
…
Your gaze, acutely angled,
Averts just whom or what? –
Me? Your answer?

Ah! Now I sense your certain pragmatism –
Fundamentals –
Personified perhaps
By what I saw beyond:

An entity of mist
Peering back
To analyse our wake.

But
That’s all you've EVER done!

Can’t you blow it all away!
And rise, you fool;
Just f*** ‘em all! –
We’re needy of a break.



Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2014