he said, but I know better.
Within this skein of not-so-
delicately carded life, or even
life discarded, time pulls, tangles,
knots mazelike through experiences
and around select points, events, loves.

Spacetime pitfalls
don’t restrict themselves to mass.
The weft might just as easily
be warped by weighty moments,
pasts and futures shaping the continuum
of all our fabric lives.

As a small sphere set loose
upon four stretched dimensions,
I move, not of my own design,
but helplessly over the curves and recesses
of our making time, our lovetime.
Time is love’s fool, so I
must orbit in endless eccentricity
around the deepening event wells
of you.