Over Time

October 2004

Not much. Less. Slip

of a finger, diminished

interval, maybe third

of three or two.

Water mirrors house with high

green door opening out (no

steps) into pure air.

Air pockets three

hawks. Cat got

the bird got the cat.

Overflown. A habit

of flight. Worn cloud

on the edge of edge.

Wisps. Little tongues.

Tongues at work. Talk Today

She could did for an hour or more.

My first her, who gave me words.

Then at the end, before, merely Oh!

A moment of... of more, perhaps.

Oh sweet and blessed could be.

Oh my soul

Soul slept, called in sick.

Late sun clouds

the lake with clouds.

Katydid down

to -did -did.

Nothing to be done.

Little sun, quarter moon.

Moon covered, un-

covered, covered again, cold.

Cold and hot, very and both.

Disturbed the Sea of Tranquility.

Distributed by the Moon Shop.

Distributed self in pieces.

Oh my broken.

Broken down, or out, as in

war, or into, soon: my own him.

How much we carry around

under our skins, many

we were, girls and boys

Now now

And then then.

Then gone and then to come:

all the time, except the split

second, except—

All the time in the world.

And out of this world?

Oh little heart on my wrist,

where are we going?

Going home: packed her bags

to go back ninety years

burning skirt broken fork

slow train the old house

current counter under cross

The one who gave me time

is out of time.

Time to shut the rattling

windows slamming doors

And if at first you don’t and if

you try again and don’t you

slip a little slide

Rope burns hands over

the book the pages over

Over time she—

Overtime. Timer

she was Click I mean

I. Would work the week

long song bird in the—

Burning bush ahead, red

sumac jeweled by sun.

Sun, here come the clouds

again. Between us. You

could care: you’ll swallow

us up on your way out.

You’re almost halfway

there, and here

am I, way past half.

Half-life, half-light, half-

moon, half-mast: low

flag, and every evening down.

Discovered a world of green

in him, on the shore

of newfound skin

His different hand

Hand over hand

over: change

for an empty

Enter the bare page

Oh keep him safe

in his thin shift

on his metal bed

Bed for one, my very

one, own, oh let

him let him

Someone’s deep inside

him now, something

inside him’s taken is

it is he let him breathe

Breathe light hold

in the light: him at bandaged

rest, her last year in her

last bed: the apple pink

just under the skin: I

am floating again a little less

less the chord resolving.

Resolved, that leaves should turn

and turn: color to motion to rest.

Flutter of yellow, flash of red, bronze-

leafed trunk fallen across the path.

Ducks twitch white tails over the water,

geese stretch necks ... All fall down.

All rise. All different.

Different from us. Dry,

quiet. Still. Still

Freeman Sarah Rebekah John

locust maple hornbeam oak

Timothy. Bent grass under

our feet, over their bones.

Katheryn. Out of. Under and over.

Over my— my tiny

planet, growing colder, little

train that could but where’s

the track? On, off

again, over my, un-

done, nerve

flinched at No. But maybe If—

If. Only. Then

again. But out

of time just now as

the lace of yellow locust

leaves molecules

particles waves catches

its breath begins to hum.

Hum of words

under words: brief

for breath, him

for hum, him still

in his bed for one—

And clouds so thick and fast

the whole sky’s turning.

Turning now to the newsy world the Red

Sox take last four claim pennant countries

taken in or out people counted no

count bombing voting mission killing

vision blurred our leader says God says

had hatred in his heart he said rage

testosterone he said our leader vote for God

God is not a Republican

Democrat Yankee Red

Sox fan of him or her—

But him is whom our bed

is holding, him my one is home

again, oh bless him keep him safe

this little time that is our life.

Lifetime, timeline, line-

up, down time, no time

to lose time, all time gone.

More of them, body count a full

count, bases loaded, all bets

off, one by one, or war

time lots, all at once.

Once there was a girl, a boy, end

of story in one first word, once

she was and nothing’s left of her except

me oh my and her him too: her last

days he also came all back to me but

now my own him is here is not

once upon but times many.

Many, as in instances, or all,

one, as in passing, as in course of:

two words for time, in Vietnamese,

but one for all the times to do,

for go went gone, as in, this colder

day, the geese: only ducks and gulls

on the little pond, its tiny island.

Island’s I, for all

the thinking not (no man

no self). Island’s home,

at least for some. But here’s

a little boat for back and forth

with one beside, rowing through

the eventide, the late evening.

Evening out. On

the town, out of town:

city wearing your black

dress sequined with lights, I

am coming down for an even-

ing out, in bed beside.

The rest: held by, holding.

Holding on the Red

Sox won eclipsing even the full

eclipsed moon a moment outside

the trouble we’ve seen though the TV had

to bring in the war the war that people

believe is good because they want

to believe it’s a winning team

Teeming with leaves, trees

and ground all gold

around gray stones: I

am greeting my last

neighbors, we shall

all be changed, pieces

of gold slipping into air.

Airborne, air-born, hand-

sized cradle to hold

a soul, no broken-

bough fall. Good

news today, but best

in the air, this old

new leaf, turning it over.

Over and over again

and again, time

after time, stone

upon hallowed stone.

More than bones, ghost-

thin skin, I’m here, much

less less. Not yet not.

Source: Day Unto Day (Milkweed Editions, 2014)