Accelerated History of Us by Gordon Taylor

In the beginning

I am not sure what to say

so, I nod at you.


The earth is altered

forever, trying to shift

from one foot to two.


You steady me, hand

on my back, as we float through

a slow-cooked summer.


You can never find

your eyeglasses, even when

they are on your face.


The coming thunder

excites the shad flies, swarming

in blurs of worry.


You say I can’t hold

anyone I think is not

my kind of perfect.


Parallel ash; two

cigarettes interrupted

burning on a curb.


Mid-winter branches

crawl into our path, giant

spiders made of ice.


In my bed you leave

a Post-It Naan recipe

that we never bake.


I know spring is here

when the sun is strong enough

to melt a snowbank.


Our mythology

evaporates into new

boots and pink crocus.


I awake surprised

to learn that beginnings

look the same as ends.


Gordon Taylor (he/him) is a queer poet who walks an ever-swaying wire of technology, health care and poetry. His poems have appeared in Tickle Ace (now Defunct), Prairie Fire, Plenitude, The Bridport Arts Prize Anthology and is forthcoming in Months to Years.


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