On Time

Our evanescent orb recedes on the horizon

as dusky colors drift from golden to ash.

My tread mimics the Earth’s gentle heart

beating against worn asphalt,

heat rising around my ankles.

Smokey thoughts sift in my cerebrum

coming to surface like silver fish at feeding hour.

Scaley and slimy and hard to hold.

They don’t bite as much anymore.

For moments the world has no sun and no moon,

and I imagine it is lit by the energy of human life.

Little bodies pacing

until the light flickers out.

The fleeting day turns my feet over faster,

keeping pace with last light.

If I could catch up with time, sometimes I think,

maybe I’ll find you again,

sitting there on your back porch at the Lower Nashotah.

I’m no angel,

wingless and flesh.

And sometimes,

I wish time away. 

Time is the inevitable foe that always wins the race.

The net that keeps reeling forward.

It kept pulling, even when you choked your last breath.

How did it not stop?

Your eyes were so scared, and it didn’t even slow down.

How was that not significant enough?

It is rude and ruthless.

The fish are jumping more tonight.

Silver flashes of light on the horizon.

They won’t quiet down.

November 2023