The Guillotine

How small is a moment?
This instant has
already happened,
before you
know it.
We are forever
living the past.

The blade falls.
I hear it
slice the air.
I feel it rumble
like thunder.
My heart thumps
between the tock
and tick in the space
between the hands
of the clock.
My time
counts down
in seconds split
fine as hair.
But I never feel
this second
I never know
this minute
in motion stopped,
when I am done,
eyes heavenward.

The blade holds
the still life scene
in reflection.