Crisis is a Hair

Crisis is a Hair

Toward which the forces creep

Past which forces retrograde

If it come in sleep

To suspend the Breath

Is the most we can

Ignorant is it Life or Death

Nicely balancing.

Let an instant push

Or an Atom press

Or a Circle hesitate

In Circumference

It—may jolt the Hand

That adjusts the Hair

That secures Eternity

From presenting—Here—