A Poem

This is one just for you
Electronic ink on a page that scrolls
Like paper used to,
When the desert sands were younger
A few drips of thought
Sucked from a puddle of words
Trapped inside a chunk of bone
By the life-pulse regular as the minutes

This is one just for you
A poem, the last I'll ever write
Till the next one
Something to keep the hidden in sight
Long enough for time
To carry us all to a place for looking back
And gazing like tourists at the Canyon
Full of wonder, emptied of size
Pondering the patient water chisel-work

This is one just for you
A reader wrapped in a mind so alien
You couldn't be me
Hold it like a mirror: Cutting edges.
Silvered backing. Scratch too deep
And there'll be nothing to look at
Only a web of words glued
To the corner of an evening
Waiting for the fly to stray too far.