Once, I was lost at sea before I gave a toe to the blue.
I gave birth to your thankless child before I met you.
I was sent to prison for torching a house I hadn't yet built.
The priest said before he knew me, he was chummy with my guilt.
Should I be worried that things happen this way
In my life, where night precedes, and does not follow, day?
A fish appears on the shore where I'd cast no line.
True, it was dead. Chris-mouthed. But Jesus in the Bible (like Keanu) fucks with time.
You insist I left you before we ever met.
I ask, "Haven't you ever embarrassingly erased the word 'STET?'"
Funny bone of the universe, stop elbowing me!
Mealy-mouthed physicists hedge, "Before nothing, a potentiality..."
This poem was written before I woke this morning.
I had as much to do with it as the ocean's churning.
Before you read this sonnet you knew how it ended.
Bitched. Dreamed between sentences. Before you woke today you surely weirdly wended.
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