What if
every small moment
had an even smaller door,
a pinprick
leading to all the centuries
that came before
and every future, kind
or malevolent,
which is still in the haystack?
No metaphor will do
the trick; it’s you
who must transform,
you
who must intuit,
you who must be willing
to admit—
right here,
there exists a terrible
crack in the world;
and this poem
is you forever failing—
but trying
like the devil did—to mend it.
