Not remembered—
Any clock.
Parallel lines through
a desert where
water was impossible.
We came through it
delivered our goods
turned back.
Marked time’s
infinity in space.
Night dropped blind
as a mask.
Once in a while
it blew in, violent.
Almost reluctant,
shrinking the shadows.
Susan Isla Tepper is a twenty years published writer in all genres. Her current project is an Off-Broadway Play on the subject of art and life.
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