Passing Time

I watch the sunlight

As it slithers after its own shadows

Across my walls,

Leaving stroboscopic imprints

Of its movements

In egg-yolk oranges and Carnation yellows.

The sunlight glares at me.

It cuts edges off my body at stark angles,

As it passes through its infernal cycle.

In the morning, it filters in

Like the cooing of a newborn babe.

Paints itself sharp teeth on my ceiling midday.

And sets itself ablaze into the night,

At the end of the day,

Commanding every body to turn into dust and shadows.

It crawls away. Disappointed.

Dragging its muzzle with too little of my body in it.

It will come back, it promises.

Promises. Promises. Tomorrow.

Time ticks itself to death on my wall,

My nightstand, on top of my chest of drawers,

My phone, my computer,

The cave of my heart,

The creases on my face,

And on the valley of my palms,

As it, too,

Grows tired of me.

The bed, warm and omnipresent,

Always wins against time.

Date submitted: February 6, 2023

Date accepted: May 1, 2023