this past year I have been experimenting with time.
May is
stifling in a different way this year.
I open my blinds and the clouds start falling.
You used to fill up the silence like candies in a jar.
The rumble
Of the electric saw hangs over my head.
When the city iced over, we wrapped the trunks of our palm trees
in blankets. Still, they cracked and froze without a sound.
Like this,
I wish the roads away. I grab a fistful of ground and pull it in,
cinch it tighter. The house lurches; the foundation splits and bulges over,
dribbling down the edges of my memories.
But I think I found
A more forgiving place where time slows down again.
I drive out to take the hairpin turns, and in the bend of the road
I sometimes catch a glimpse of your headlights.