Foregoing
by William Huang
Small black bead floating in the corner of my eye
The horizon has woken up and folded itself
into a suitcase left at the base of a mouldy stairwell
And I've been so late that by the time
I've noticed the stickers, stamps, marked
"Urgent, non-repeatable, non-transferable, time-sensitive"
this barely registers as lost opportunity.
Instead of pushing myself back into blank the suffering square
I answer with a wink gathering my exertion risen to a tremor.
My pickaxe strikes the stone fatally before the wide river floods
and I'm washed to the mouth of a screaming waterfall
arms raised as in a magnificent orange slide.
William Huang is a writer living in Boorloo who writes poetry, short fiction and essays. Portside Review is his second publication. He is interested in the creative, social and imaginative possibilities of community building, as well as the cross sections between different artforms.