- It’s Late, and Then It’s After
A part, but against, without movement, a dream (in the oyster) of a time to come: The body and light of the dream finally engage the invisible noise of the past (not yet complete) and you, not missing, but still not there, somewhere in sleep and love, folding your water out of tomorrow, out of its turgid fullness— your thatch by other fingers spread. [End Page 118]
D.G. Zorich’s poems have been published in Caveat Lector. He lives in California.