Spinning

This house of flies

I spun.

If I

Could turn back time.

If I

Could un-spin the sun.

The calm of cool undone.

Spool un-spun to pools of wool.

Isn’t it though

The perfect rhyme?

A softer dough

Still rises fine.

Through halls of wax

I run.

If I could turn

Towards time

If I could un-sing

The sun

And just be done.