Poetry
Sliver of Time STEPHEN SCHWEI
Acorns are gone, swept away. People in graves marked for the 1800s had no idea what the 21st century would be like. And I’ll never see the 23rd or 89th or anything on the horizon. But the sky is still trembling blue, exasperatingly blue and trees line the roads like they very well might have even in that time. This doesn’t feel like an 1800s cemetery. It’s carved out of the city and could remain a secret source of boiling over blue skies and mating butterflies, masking and elongating time. I’m here for only the faintest sliver of time, while thoughts and ideas and comforting blue skies traverse the eons.
NEW READER MAGAZINE
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59
