Speaking softer now in a still lingering light Measured in long peeks out the window, Until the life of darkness Resumes the ongoing day: Slipping, Stretching, Into something else.
Some of us lost the light Before we were even able To sequester its sparkling splendor In some imaginary pause.
I walked right past that bus!
That's how it grabbed me: Before I could even catch up to it And after it was long gone.
Now cardboard afternoons, To box the passage of days, And the frayed edges of old towels Hanging stiff along a sagging clothesline: Barely swinging back and forth.
Sam A. Flanagan
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