Left Space
There’s a lot of time Not to sound like I know what’s what but -- There is so much of it and what I’m doing with it keeps varying Continually dismisses me and latches on to anything My hands keep twisting up in the other’s fingers Playing and plucking and hugging, loving and thumbing Fumbling for something, searching high and low, feeling What shall we do with them? What shall we try healing And memories hold even more They’re time flipping burgers, they’re time sipping wine They’re time kissing cheeks, they’re time singing live Like every snow globe holding some story and the pictures you carry The multitudes don’t end, they are upended and then Given back again, weaved again, represented or resented Time rings bells and swells, crescendos and towers I find it goes so slow sometimes, I find it finds itself And the paradox allows for pause Does it exist on the surface of our surface or just In the spaces where we left space, the stuff we put away Where is later, I know it’s later all the while and I know Time can fly, go right by, like summer days and cut grass How long it seemed to take the blades to grow, how wild it did The quickness of an infant, turned toddler, turned kid It harrows along the expanse of our waiting, bated breaths In the absence of it, there it is Having none while it’s all you have A thought process wracked with guilt and intrusive tides Oncoming and ongoing as waves on a rocky shore There is always less, there is always more And I am in it as it sits on my chest like a burden for a gift I ask for lofty length and await slight shifts The sift to better days on the wind, long ones with rationalizing -- L.M.
