The buddha’s doppelganger sneers
while a paralyzed Kali glares, but wait. Here
in the time before awkward bargaining gambits
or axiomatic surrender,
drumbeat tick of time, heartbeat of now,
the parallax present shifts.
Elsewhere, somewhere, the numbers climb:
election polls, those dead from weather,
who can keep up with the accounting
abacus of experience: where a tree fell
and who heard it.
Electric lines eel the flood, sparking aftermath;
the hours circle night
and the small halo of the desk lamp.
In the lonely dark, grief-conditioned hearts
dream of aubades.