New poem: Stealing Time

poetry/index.html

@@ -143,6 +143,7 @@
 	│   ├── <a href="./s/skin.txt">skin.txt</a><br>
 	│   ├── <a href="./s/sleepover2011.txt">sleepover2011.txt</a><br>
 	│   ├── <a href="./s/somnolence.txt">somnolence.txt</a><br>
+	│   ├── <a href="./s/stealing-time.txt">stealing-time.txt</a><br>
 	│   ├── <a href="./s/strange-proposal.txt">strange-proposal.txt</a><br>
 	│   ├── <a href="./s/strawberry.txt">strawberry.txt</a><br>
 	│   └── <a href="./s/sweet-summer.txt">sweet-summer.txt</a><br>
@@ -169,7 +170,7 @@
 	&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; └── <a href="./w/wme.txt">wme.txt</a><br>
 <br><br><p>
 
-22 directories, 119 files
+22 directories, 120 files
 
 </p>
 	<hr>

poetry/s/stealing-time.txt

@@ -0,0 +1,90 @@
+Stealing Time
+2022-04-04
+
+***
+
+The bike path has been sprayed
+with meteors, brown and burnished
+and leaking to yellow, to naught.
+Trees have done their part to furnish
+the path
+with each and every fallen branch
+they could spare. The flags are frayed,
+marking the entrance to Dead End Shrine,
+sandwiched between two rainy days
+and welcoming this stolen time.
+
+This stolen time,
+I've come to find,
+is the only place where I can live.
+Leaving work early,
+wings unfurling
+to mark a time loop created,
+these bike trips where far too long I've left
+to not come home covered in muck and sweat
+and yet somehow never do,
+the severed hours after bedtime
+when comes to me all these rhymes,
+rest of family long self-sedated.
+
+I don't like this waiting.
+
+I don't like the parting
+when comes time for my love to once more return home.
+"Please don't go.
+Either stay
+or take
+me with you."
+
+Every natural process of life
+that I've ever shied
+away from
+becomes
+less able to terrify
+with her at my side.
+I've made my peace
+with the regular bleed
+whether from womb or breast,
+the growth of velvet patches
+along my hips and chest,
+the hot flashes,
+the persistent desire
+to rip open my seams
+and throw my guts to the fire.
+
+But my brain refuses to cooperate with me.
+It's stealing time,
+stealing memories.
+I know that forgetfulness is my domain,
+but there's still some recollections
+I'd like to remain.
+
+There's still some reflections
+I don't recognize.
+Stealing someone's body,
+looking out through their eyes,
+wearing like a coat their spirit, their life.
+It makes sense in the moment,
+the logic of how their life goes,
+but I wake up and I wonder
+why
+this stranger is so vivid
+but not my own exploits in the Outside.
+
+I promised her that when came
+the day
+for me to give up this vessel and die,
+I'd let her climb into my bed with me
+instead of kneeling at my bedside.
+Emulating that which my mother
+did, but trading one body for another.
+One last breach out of the womb.
+One last parent-induced cry.
+
+And after we leave, I promise you
+
+I'll make up for the stolen time.
+
+***
+
+CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander