Foregoing
by William Huang

Small black bead    floating   in the corner of my eye
The horizon has woken up    and folded itself
into a suitcase left at the base of a mouldy stairwell

And I've been so late    that by the time
I've noticed the stickers, stamps, marked
"Urgent, non-repeatable, non-transferable, time-sensitive"
this barely registers as lost opportunity.

Instead of pushing myself back    into blank    the suffering square
I answer with a wink    gathering my exertion    risen to a tremor.

My pickaxe strikes the stone fatally    before the wide river floods
and I'm washed to the mouth of a screaming waterfall
arms raised as in a magnificent orange slide.

William Huang is a writer living in Boorloo who writes poetry, short fiction and essays. Portside Review is his second publication. He is interested in the creative, social and imaginative possibilities of community building, as well as the cross sections between different artforms.