Skeleton

Superluminal travel isn’t possible for humans, you said. It seemed

karmic. We were running toward abundance as if our livesdependedonit,

egads, but never fast enough.             To fermata the present

lacuna was another way.     An opposite approach—

embrace this day.                 You are transitory

the world laughed.    Oh yeah, we laughed back. So what?

Ovulating, while it lasted, was a blast, mainlining that Eros—

nectar, nabbed.    (As if!)        Any way outta this bag of bones?
More Poems by Deborah Landau