13 O’Clock

by Anthony Servante 

 

There is a point

where the top

touches the bottom

where the sides

meet the middle

when the past

becomes the future

and everything

in that instant

starts and ends

anachronistically

like the day

and the night

at twilight

equal neither

themselves

nor one another

but something more

which owes

nothing

to history

space or motion

life or death

because

it pauses

for eternity

in its own moment

and place

for us

to whom time

holds no debt

save for 13 o’clock.

  

From Urban Graves: 13 Poems from the Machine

by Anthony Servante

Copyright 2014

Available on Amazon for Kindle