It Happens in a Moment
It happens in a moment. A prick of a thorn. A drop of blood on your finger. A crack in the dyke holding back your heart.
A moment you look at the rose, already wilting. Remember what you were running from.
A moment you squeeze the wound with your thumb, look about the empty apartment, not yet rented, and wonder what the hell you are doing there.
A moment you wake. When this pinch of pain, barely throbbing, slaps you in the face.
A moment you wrap your finger in newspaper, a half-hearted effort to staunch the torrent coming from somewhere else.
A moment you let yourself think of her, the one you left behind, and know.
It happens in a moment.