Which Darkest Hour

by on February 14, 2024 :: 0 comments

the day the sun rose twice.
did it change directions. was it a different sun.
what time did my phone think it was
or we all just passed out for several hours and missed night
maybe only part of the world had two sun rises
and did all those places also have two sun sets

if the last to leave didn’t turn off the sun
if here, windowless, maybe buried, had its own sun
and day length, clocks tuned to 48 minute hours
or 48 second minutes. how would our hearts respond.
would music just slide into the new tempo, moments of
perfect stillness where even the clocks hold their breath
no one is born or dies, all souls joined in blank, anxiety-free hesitation.

certain corners I always stop on, certain lights are always green for me
open one door and two windows close, look up the time
and miss a message fluttering by the window, I’d set an alarm
but it sang somewhere else. on time but undressed

to notice the gaps and stutters in time
out of rhythm with everyone else oh so slightly
in denial, maybe paranoid, why me, what difference
can it make, never quite on time as others define
and if time is off what about location, never exactly here
always something askew when we meet, as if setting a new time
would make any difference, bring someone else,

will doors open before I can’t stay still, before the mirror-walls
re-costume, mistranslate, add the mystery ingredient
an echo with edges and intent, shadows unsure which way to point

editors note:

We need a minute to figure time out, a shadow to point the way. – mh clay

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