dimly

Dimly, I have marked a meter in the Heart of Man.
Unevenly, arrhythmia responds as dreams too old
to own when we awaken shape the Myth
we seek to blot with industry:


In frames, in slices I can count it pumps outrageously,
I watch it flood the nurseries where our children wait,
I see this stress their sleep.
I calibrate the silence seized by their extended rest
(in patches of unnatural calm observe our weakness and the chill
while sickness grows in puddles in between these bursts
as Rancor turns to clabber Possibility).