Poetry of Issue #8        Page 87

For Ethel

We live in the past
in our stars, in our visions.
Aways slightly out of synch
time gapes across galaxies and tables.
you speak
and a fraction of a fraction of a second later
   your mouth moves,
and a fraction of a fraction of a second later
   I hear you
Time enough, this is, to contain all of history

Oceans and puddles, Forests and trees
There are gaps in our knowledge
We tire and stretch.
Time yawns and swallows the sun
Which having set lingers on the horizon
and sets again.

I ache to set things right

There is a force in me that pulls and tears
   for reconciliation. If you speak,
and your mouth moves, and I hear you all at once
   — what is the harm in this?
A place to rest a nest on damp ground
covered with dry leaves

Hailstones and landslides, Earthquakes and tremors
There is a force in this that pulls and tears
   and cries for resolution
Aching
to make all the parts
sit still in one place, in one time,
   for one moment
But the world persists, and falls away
in pieces