Time

A hybrid poem

Photo by Roma Kaiuk🇺🇦 on Unsplash

There isn't time, there's never time. The skeletons turned to moths years ago. The cedar chips scared them off. Dreaming of past lives, of could-of-been lives. Today, tomorrow — ten years from now — a lifetime when I close my eyes.

I’ve stopped feeling twenty-six.
Lost count, lost days — lost for words.
Death is closer now than he was the year before.