Until the Next Thought Creates a Poem

in retrograde movement
unparalleled
inadequate
occasionally frightened half to death
twice or thrice

no more anxious than rain
a lingering portent of evil

rendered useless
by this thing called love
changed into someone awful
crossing thresholds
only you ever saw

a step beyond
a rumor
a question

some unaccountable thief
twisting
twisted too perhaps
in quiet retrograde motion
a rustling variance
the mystery
concealed yet again

if panic seized you
it's understandable

remarkable
guided by their judgement
it is I who is
found

inadequate

it is too painful to consider
this will be the last
of my thoughts and poems
upon it