What about Space Then?

‘It was Time,’ they said at the front desk. They were right.
Time had come down, turned in the room key, and gone out.
‘What about Space then?’ they said at the front desk. Second sight
would have helped them understand what was about
to happen, or had happened, as the thin red line
between conflicting realities unravelled.

In the mirror-filled hotel restaurant, Death took a shine
to his own reflection marvelling how he’d travelled
from a There to a Here in a fraction of a Now.
Waitresses turned grey. The head waiter waived
the wait-to-be-seated rule and gave a bow
to Death. ‘They all do,’ Death thought, ‘as if it saved

them answering when I call.’ He ordered toast
and wondered which – Time or Space? – missed him the most.

Time Fall

We take time to contemplate the universe,
our approaching sleep embraced by alien arms.
Is our galaxy avoiding the void?
How many super galaxies underpin
the nothingness on which all matter rests?
I fall asleep while you count falling stars.

I wake once more on our planet on the edge
of falling while revolving round a star
that itself is falling casually in step
with myriads and plethoras, and with slews
of things and forces I don’t understand.
Not that it matters as the fall continues.