Photo by Milo McDowell via Unsplash




I discover the meaning of time:
time of swiftness and clawing
the face of a stone;

time of losing my tail
to the slow hands of a child;
time of gripping 

the rotten log, black on black,
nimble toes holding on
to a friendly color; 

time of biting the air, time
of tasting the light,
swallowing it

through my jagged skin,
my pink delicate belly
rising, sinking. 

All the light I need
through my blood.


First published in Dappled Things, Pentecost 2019

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