10 Seconds Between The Lines

Between this
supercalifragilisticexpialidocious second
and the next
expiring breath I am weaving invisible strings while
the machine tapers on.
This fine gossamer network that we have our lives teetered to.
Elsewhere, as always
life teems and surges in a neverending blaze of urgency
but never behind the windows
where it is always one hour, one light, one time,
we draw a blind
on life
and contend
that there is always tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow
that the sun is never
a day too close, a ray too much, and that it
will never set.