Keep this under your hat, beneath your skin:
let’s begin as smashed hope and promise,
a small smidgen of something sound.
This stopwatch is set to ‘run’ –
maybe we’ll see our turn
and learn a thing or
two, one silenced
way with us,
a shape all its
own, a face and hands.
It stands tall, runs out when
it pleases, throws sand in our
eyes and squeezes them shut as dark
stars. It mars its own skin with squares,
stares into the face of death and laughs deep.
Victoria has us writing Etherees over at dVerse
(I’m late to the party. My hourglass was broken.) Come play!