two seventeen
That still moment of the morning
when the quietest wind hums
and the whole world seems to hush
strains to catch that elusive hymn
few mortals lost in sleep turn
and the invincible sculptor of life
folds new creases around their eyes
two seventeen this morning
In a frozen stupor she lay
Staring at the vacuity of her days
Looking where there is naught to see
The veins in her eyes filled with blood
she quaked an arm to Pablo
he blinked and smiled and faded away
so she crawled back into her abysmal murk
watched the clock hands make their turns
two seventeen and she never blinked
yet he came and went unseen
looking at the mirror in the morning light
she weeps at the passage of time
that new crease at the edge of her eye…
the invincible sculptor of life
at two seventeen did come by
