A Little Past

by Sarah Jean Simonelli, from USA

The past
is an archive of events
even when I die,
you turn back
your neck
and I'll eternally
have what came before

and there's somewhere
somewhere a man
singing softly
unique and parched
it's all the pain
holding her
in my arms Vessel
to the words
he can't see before
before the chords

Maddened by a red sun
skeptical
going on through this
and behind
a wagging tail
the sands continue to shift

A little past
the way we were
And then,
by that will always be