Portrait of the Future as Reversal

Read: porch
as reproach; aperture 
as rapture. Spring 

has come and gone. 
Now the crepe myrtles 
shed weak fireworks; a haze

thickens in the heat. 
Don't you also tremble 
at the thought of a future 

which shows its teeth 
then backs away, swallowing 
itself?  For every discovery

in the world, a list of side 
effects we're only just starting
to feel. Some things haven't 

changed: cast-off clothes sail 
around the world in ships packed 
with weapons and lumber. Viewed 

from afar, the horizon could still be an 
edge— it took us forever to imagine it 
as a place from which we'd fall. 

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