Inquisition
When did it start, this river
of chasing what wasn’t yours
to catch? What washed up
in the aftermath of “yes, but”
and “if only”—if only the tide
collided out east instead of west,
or the Earth spun counter-clockwise
like you’d asked it to in the first
place—yes, but even if the universe
was not itself expanding, and
instead your world shrunk down to
what you could hold in a 12 ounce
glass—what, then? Every beginning
would still have an ending, every
ocean a mouth where it widens—
every moment when water is starting
holds a moment when water will stop.
Jessica Lynne Likes Words 