there is no Noah-gene abounding of me
no spin of the wheel offering another lifespan allowance equal to what you’ve long since spent
in silence, find truth
there is no infinite number of star-filled skies
no take-backs or do-overs, despite my shouts of forgiveness and this miracle heart transplant
in truth, find silence
Do you, as I, daily perform an unending juggling act with the hours, grasping at fleeting minutes, feeling, by sundown, famished for time?
Who of us doesn’t wish to artfully turn the wretched clock into origami art that would sit silent and still on the wall and evidence beauty instead of lack?
Were it possible, I would wave my surely magic arms, and weave into the moments a stop gate, then take eternity to tell you, thank you, you were right, and I love you.
If I told you take your sweet time
The remains of my lifetime
I said it through believing eyes
Promising any number of hours
I’ll just be over here on a shelf
Having a cigarette
Waiting
Well, you know me
Always the optimist
The daydreamer with you
My sheer will ran dry
Three months and I did the math
There’ve been three lies
There’ve been three strikes
I know what I want
Should I first ask to depose the light?
Let it chase me round and round
Me — play hard to get?
But at this point in human history
For what purpose?
With time unubiquitous
If not now, when?
With stars and firmament acting finite
To what end?
Spent yesterday contemplating clocks
As humans have, from age to age
Many days, these hands sweep effortlessly
The pain hidden by some gift of grace
Yesterday, oh, the seconds though
Surely they doubled in gravity
Looped back and proceeded to wait….
This business of time is rather an art
So thus, must be valued as such
Will I wait one more night
One more day’s tick-tock ruse
When it seems only correct to go
Godspeed today
Where I know my heart must be tomorrow
Thieving we were
Taking back, actually
All the sea had thieved from us
Putting away demanded perfection
This time
Substituting with the misshapen
Summer shoes gone now
We, walking away
Our crime ‘gainst the dark, to pray
I imagine the universe echoes us all
At some point distant, or close
Rings back like a lover, or brother, or friend
Then, silence -when you need them most
It’s possible love transcends murderous words
In subsequent lifetimes, or past
A dynamite stick, burning from both the ends
Its light soon to fizzle, it’s heat a mere flash
Bid me tell you yes
That for one moment in time
I may forgive me
Thank you for this window now,
Of thin and vintage time.
The safehouse to set a spell,
The anchored birch, my lean-to.
That I’d be reminded
In these gusty days
There is still
The reaching skyward
And strength to see it.
LisaRosier.com 