Hourglass

[Philatone]

V. 3 switched to present tense. removed opening line, adjusted stanza structure, adjusted the "bark" simile, adjusted the "measuring" stanza. thanks to tec, billy, and dale


hourglass

I find a plate of tangerine
slices, frosted in the back of the fridge.
The peeled curls return my thoughts to you,
wilted in a slender gown in a sterile room,

age stripping color from hair
as though bronze were bark.

Separated for a night, we still count
what neither of us can measure;
not in front of a counter strewn with flour,
not in the grasp of a detached machine.

A tally of hours may grow to days or crumble into sand
during a shift of sleep in a familiar bed

or as I eat the fruit set to spoil.
Cold, one slice is lifted away, then another,
until the dish loses its citric patients,
its finish so clear, unstained. White.




V. 2



Back from the hospital,
I found a plate of tangerine slices
frosted in the back of the fridge.

Those peeled curls, unfastened, returned my thoughts to you,
wilted in a slender gown in a sterile room,
your age stripping color from hair like bark.

Separated for a night, we still count
what neither of us can measure, from a kitchen
or while strapped to a machine. A tally of hours

may grow to days or crumble into seconds of sand
during a shift of sleep in a familiar bed
or as I eat the fruit set to spoil. Cold,

one slice is lifted away, then another,
before the dish loses its citric patients,
its finish so clear, unstained. White.





V. 1

Back from the hospital,
I found a plate of tangerine slices,
frosted in the back of the fridge.

Those peeled curls, huddled without their shell,
returned my thoughts to you, wilted in a slender gown,
your age stripping color from hair like bark.

For now, we count what none of us can measure
from a kitchen or while strapped to a machine.
A tally of hours may grow to days

or shrivel into sand, making it hard
to take this shift of sleep in a familiar bed,
eat the food set to spoil. Cold,

one slice is lifted away, then another,
before the dish loses its citric guests,
its finish so clear, unstained. White.