tawny stag
You indulged in that Gargantuan pleasure
With glasses that spawned in litters
To fill with liters of liquor.
You felt the violent thumping like thunder
As you flashed the lightning of your lighter,
Ignoring the shadows getting closer.
Watching the swirling lights settle down
As whites became pearls, reds, rubies, greens, emeralds
With such potent saturation they beat down
The older hues of trees in your mind.
You were nineteen then, what happened to time?
She was pretty, your first real love,
Pretty to others as nature is pretty,
Pretty to you as a car crash is pretty,
There was something foul in you.
The light of her touch reminded you
Of the shadows creeping
Closer.
You were twenty two, what happened, time?
You thought contentment a patsy for greatness,
And that all great men must suffer,
Their ambition having been sourced from lack,
For what else can drive and propel?
So, your future dazzled in your vision,
The camera obscura for your darkness.
You were twenty six, time, what happened?
All those winters you’d hibernated in
Your apartment with its green walls, green plants,
And all its ersatz spring felt muddy
Like soiled crystals of snow trampled brown.
You were thirty then, what was happening to time?
You walked around the lake on your weekends,
A dappled gray duck would always watch you
As you scraped your feet to the water’s edge,
Its quack echoed as you watched the ripples.
You were thirty five, time happened.
You bought an odd candlestick for your desk
With odd protrusions in each direction,
Never lit, but seeming fragile by lamp light.
Its shadow leaned oblong onto your lap.
It got closer,
And closer.
You were forty then, time...
You itched at the green vein snaking your leg.
In pictures you would stare through the lens.
Your drowsiness deepened with self-neglect.
"You’re older now, you don’t need to care."
You were sixty then...
Closer…
Closer…
Closer…
Seventy.
Time is your shadow.
It was always here.
tranquil lintel
tiny crane
nocturne knot
oblique root
shy acorn