scream now. pray later.

sorry i’m late. keep tripping over my own log jams.
a focused stumbling that picks berries. 
like confetti in a bucket of kicks to the sternum.
healing wounds you forgot about
so scream now, and pray later.
hollow tongues have shallow feet
treading the moondust and the heather
slipping between the thimble sea
and the wide advance 
of ever marching Time
crumpled into 
A Moment.

like a lost opportunity.