to change a timestamp the way
you never could a postmark.
Our promises for ourselves
live fluidly, the past
at the mercy of the present.
It's easier to stack the deck here,
to claim this poem for yesterday as if
plans hadn't gone unrealized.
A goal forgotten, hours lost
blink out effortlessly;
an all-powerful order smooths the wrinkles.
It would be easier to take hours tomorrow
and assign them to today, as if
I'd been a proper weekday girl.
Otherwise now I'd have to pretend
to be regretting
all our extra sunsoaked minutes.
No comments:
Post a Comment