Tracing the Fox

she watched the world end. another tired rerun in an endless series of repetitions. it went with neither a whimper nor a bang. it was simply static. the crackle of feedback. indifferent photons coupling and parting in a world without time. how could they ever understand. these obstuse particles that stubbornly cling to the angles of failing mathematics.

the hysterical numbers of bones. a chaotic division. the pollination of when. cardboard skeletons trying on the flood. weak, torn, but not broken.

 each moment a contract. every breath a promise.

the road swallows  each footstep. always hungry for more. the light wanders. indifferent to the geometry of time. a needle without thread. gravity without regret..

the slope of how. blunt razors mapping empty gardens. the echo of empty rooms in houses made of trust.

her ragged dolls. all broom piles and ultimatums.

doorways like starvations and epiphany. the keys frozen in the locks.