Poetry

Time limits – Poem

Times I see non sequiturs drill down my body

like balls in an artsy game of chutes and ladders – 3D.

Times I try to hold the future like it’s a rope

in a game of tug of war, or I’m rescuing myself from a loop

that could be a game of hangman. Times I try to be

present, and I think of bows and giftwrap, of how

time bows to the perceiver. How long do I get to love?

How long til I can forget the love I’ve lost?

Times are limited and thank god

I’d not want to be cursed with forever, what

a parachute of a life we live. I’m not responsible for

anything more than I can hold in my mind’s eye—

better yet, my hand. When I get this, time stops for long enough

that I hear the crow’s exclamation, smell the plumbs

ripe in the yard. Times become god units, long inhalations

and though nothing that’s been trying, that’s been hard changes, I do.

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