Loss

It seems late to me.
I know it is after that time
when the last rocket of day
sputtered past the horizon
and was gone.

Late is now defined by
how much it is past
that moment the diamond
fell from your eye.


It is late but not very late
still it is past the moment
where I am who I was
and I no longer know
who got trapped in
this glass in front of me.

I feel sorry for him
like a brother who cares
for a fellow victim.
I can’t console him,
I barely have the strength
to even watch.
It is late.