What Time Is Doing To Itself

I have midnight thoughts that wilt in the noonday sun.

What is it about the dark that inspires the moon to bloom

then turn in on itself

like glacial origami

melting in on itself

a pool of blue at the end of the white

which the sun takes away

with such stealth

that it shines on its own crime

and still we can’t see what time

is doing to itself.