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The Baton



For all the descendants of my youngest self,
cursed by his birth to a worse instant,
a brief moment to grasp the baton
and pass it forward to the next hand
coming into being, but no time at all
for anything else, no time to reverse course
or even slow progress toward a finish line
that was impossible forever until inevitable.

All poems are written and copyrighted by Michael C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.