Watch Us Chase Our Tails
The sky, the clouds, rained-upon March morning.
Then a few minutes of gold, dark-bright
as I wolf down my breakfast in the café
in the square near my apartment.
Cleo’s sandals slapping
as she crosses the agora.
We owe her a debt
for striving for something greater
than our assembled parts. This quest
born from fear for the sudden sound at night
that hangs in the stillness before,
like a box wanting a lid.
We are going,
we are going,
until a transmuted clump of algorithms
wipes out our imprint.
.
Constance Bourg lives in the Flemish part of Belgium, where she volunteers at her local library. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Rogue Agent, Plath Poetry Project, Blanket Sea, Frogpond, Haibun Today and an anthology of poems about illness by Emma Press (UK). She always says that she leads a part-time life because of a chronic illness called ME/CFS.
website: constancebourg.wordpress.com.
Abegail Morley 
Thank you for sharing my poem, Abegail!