“Space Diminishing” Poetry by John Tustin

The Chamber Magazine
thechambermagazine.com
The space diminishing.
The hours narrowing.
The clock winding down
To slowness, ready to stop
Before we are prepared to stop tracking
The time.
I open the blinds just before dusk
To find the sun is dying,
Fallen from her perch above it all
And bleeding in the street 
An orange-yellow blood
That is in flames pooling along the gutters.
You are all stuck in your homes
Watching as the sun blinks out
Just as I am.
The blood of the sun irradiating us,
Making the minutes into seconds, the days into hours.
Might as well sit down and wait.
I move to the cool easy darkness of my bedroom,
Shut the door, turn on the overhead fan.
I hunker down with my poetry books
And the memories of when the sun was in the sky
In the day, the moon there at night
And you beside me, above me, beneath me
In the brief times between
All of the sadness.

The space diminishing.
The walls becoming tighter, the ceiling lowering.
The sun is dead, the streets in flames of blood.
It’s nice and dark in here, though.
I feel the glow coming from the windows.
I think about other things, getting into bed,
Waiting.
The hours so narrow
It is day and also night,
The moon melting upon
The corpse of the still hot sun
As I lie here waiting.
Just waiting
The way I have always
Waited.

John Tustin’s poetry has appeared in many disparate literary journals since 2009. fritzware.com/johntustinpoetry contains links to his published poetry online.


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