360 Degrees

THREE HUNDRED AND SIXTY DEGREES

When the metaphorical wheel of time turns 360 degrees

so does the banquet of death linger

resonating like a tuning fork held captive to unbidden thoughts.

Like stringy bark, our soft inviting flesh

ebbs and flows into a carbonised cycle of underground mesh.

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When the metaphorical wheel of time turns 360 degrees

it chastises our eventual demise, a biographical excerpt,

an epilogue to our tenure, a passing fad to those who thought they knew us.

There's nothing left but the now

to take abreast of every wavering moment that comes our way

before the metaphorical wheel of time turns 360 degrees

and we grind to a shuddering halt.

? Lennard Mechlowski