LINES WRITTEN IN A JAPANESE NOODLE SHOP WATCHING A BUILDING BE DEMOLISHED


by Sarah Sloat

The world’s a sorry business.
We sleep uneasily, and when we manage
we grind our teeth.

The slowest erosion begins inside out:
the plum and atom, the fossil,
the mammoth inner clamor.

The wrecking ball swings back around.

Plaster lands like a telegram from another planet:
I’ll keep falling
until they knock me down.