A straight line goes between
Years ago and
Years to go
Split open by a movement that distances itself into one,
by the cancellation of the other
I am but the poor judgement of their difference
What I have left
What there is left
What was left
What I have left
It is this judgement that first-place causes a first-time movement
A movement always more historical
than the in-decisiveness from which it is set out
Which speaks to the poverty of judgement in fact
If only we could move as much in question
as we have done from our answers
Perhaps we would make the ends meet in some way
All time ago and that still to go
Not put together straight away
but in the distance of a more complex separation
Like the one that makes us loop
through the judgemental form of the line