Hazel Hall

From “Repetitions”

I AM less of myself and more of the sun;

The beat of life is wearing me

To an incomplete oblivion,

Yet not to the certain dignity

Of death. (They cannot even die

Who have not lived.)
The hungry jaws

Of space snap at my unlearned eye,

And time tears in my flesh like claws.

If I am not life’s, if I am not death’s,

Out of chaos I must re-reap

The burden of untasted breaths.

(Who has not waked may not yet sleep.)