It’s time to think of years
like a child thinks of days:
instead of stairs,
there are flights,
instead of shots,
bottles. Like whole things,
one is for nothing,
another is for love.
Tomorrow we’re building,
but today is for play.
Now it’s a field, not a blade.
Surrounded by too many days
that keep getting too small.
I’m getting too big,
stuffing days into boxes
and burying them in [...]
