Within An Ace Of Expiry Poem by John Sensele

This hour dwindling to a halt
In crevices and services of my fault
Precipitating a crisis I detest
In seasons without reasons I contest

Sinks my morale to a new low
I hasten to avoid when its blow
Sends me crashing to the canvas
Where groggy knees en mass

Despite my plea to the hour
Increases at high speed its power
Which administers the coup de grace
As I creep in a carpet of grass

Breathless, panting
Restless, hunting
For a hole in the floor
To swallow me near death's door.