The Lopsided Ticking of Dali’s Clocks
wake me from a deep sleep that hoards
no memory. I stare into the dark, listening
to the uptick of a second hand shoveling
seconds into a battered tin cup, and wonder
if these lost hours log my wandering in
a desert that’s cold and still and strangely
sealed off from the world of possibilities.
There are no footprints here; yet I
can see through my milky eyelids
like a freshwater eel that lives long
enough to return to the sea of
I wait patiently
rocking in the wind’s undertow
where shadows speed past me
with waves, tumbling
to tap me hard
me up, once again.
M.J. Iuppa ‘s fourth poetry collection is This Thirst (Kelsay Books, 2017). For the past 30 years, she has lived on a small farm near the shores of Lake Ontario. Check out her blog: mjiuppa.blogspot.com for her musings on writing, sustainability & life’s stew.
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