The Terrifying Now
by
Radiance Angelina Petro

It’s impossible to explore the celestial regions in a badger’s head.
No one can stop November leaves from curling their brown hands.
Programs at funerals are like unanswered letters to immortality.

Who hasn’t found a feather-headed moth dried up on the windowsill?
Winter’s ingathering starts after swarms of snowflakes baffle the traffic.
Bright faces of sunflowers track the sun in a wide-arc, only to end by looking at the ground.

What we go around guarding everyday will eventually fall from our hands.
Go ahead and try, but no one can outrun the following dawn.
The silent teachers will always come down from the mountains to beg for food.

Radiance, what I’m trying to say is–the age of the trinity is gone.
Azrael’s near, offering you the blade he’s brought for your wrists.
It’s OK if you use it because those upstart daffodils will still rise from the snowy ground.