Watches tick, watches watch me. Watches watch me wash my hands of all of this.
Clock tick, clocks clock me in the chest, my heart beats, each one like the timpani
of a thousand turtles, tromping across the sands.
Hourglass, where are your hands that turn you,
when they shift back and forth like a steering wheel
isn't time what we make of it, forwards, backwards,
left and right, that's merely politics
I was speaking of time.
Each breath is wasted, each sigh is moot
yet breath is the wind that connects us
to the sea, the shore and
the sand
again the sand.
I was out by Lake Michigan and it was a full moon
the tide was low
and the moon was shining down like a spotlight
on the stage of the water
cooing and rustling
as gently as possible
like bubble bath foam overlapping
each bedsheet as it was folded
again and again
in the washing machine
of love, of awe
and wonder.