Poem in Which I’m Here for Leisure or Business

Suddenly in the mercy of the Else.
Like a tantrum-child picked by
some Mamzel Hexempixel (or Miz),
taken aback: ‘She exists. The Beast.’

(Pre-)(Post-)Tremor. Power is shifting,
joins and separates. Grief:
non-forgetting, non-remembering.
Items trapped in the door might cause delay.

What’s there to miss? No time to explain.
Nothing left but the soothing speed
to replace lif-laffing around.
Turbulence sometimes is a balm.

‘Complicated how?’ asked the fox. ‘Just run –
not by being and then knowing
but by searching yet still becoming.’

I’m here for business or leisure.

You call me petal, I don’t give you a name

Agnes Marton

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