Roza

THE PASSAGE OF TIME

THE FOOT OF A RABBIT, I WAS GRANTED And the head, in exchange, lost Yet, the guilt never settled in Heavier, warmer, a mass of hysterical light plummeted to my core Or perhaps grew I would have surely known by now if I hadn’t adored you so I would have known if time hadn’t seemed to dilate by your hand I would have known if I hadn’t counted my days in your ramblings And I should have known, when the Mayans and the Romans Looked utterly foolish to me in a quest to measure it Did they not know? Did the greats of astronomy and calculus not know That my baby reigns over time And did they not observe night blending into day Or the blur of the short hand passing over the segments Motionless, maybe too quick to notice? How, God of Elijah? And maybe when the mass lightens When breathing comes easier to me When all my organs get on with their day When Jane Austen withdraws her, “If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.” Only then would I agree to the passage of time.

Roza

Iraq