Brad Bostian
When time was
an insect
I watched the bright butterfly play-thing.
When it became
a tortoise
I ambled after in the tall grass.
When time took
on a red brick character
I became a beagle, curious, purposeful,
Jogging my nose along the ground.
When
responsibility folded me like origami,
I constructed my days according to
blueprints.
My life, just
as I knew it was mine,
Lifted me, hurling toward any horizon.
The moment it
left me,
I stoned from the sky
And gave my life
To the nameless
beast
That never stops hunting.
