Damoclean

Any minute now, it’ll happen:
fate. Destiny.
The axe falling.
The boot dropping
heel first upon the neck
of its neck victim
any minute now.

The waiting is the part
that hangs on
interminably
as each minute
becomes a moment
and each moment
lasts an eon indefinite
as instants stretch on.

The answers are coming.
They’ll blow on by
at any time
– any minute now –
as thoughts repeat
and echo
and everything circles
and it’s gonna happen soon
but not now.
Not yet.
Not
soon
enough.

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