A Sense of Time

not long ago 
or maybe it is a few years
but really how long is a year
when you spend all your time in a septic womb
waiting for a butterfly

so it may 
have been long or not
years may have passed or not
two or twenty
I can’t be bothered to 
remember but I am told the posse of insects
did wave their antennas and discuss the weather 
before they sat in an open top porsche
and headed into the war

I have grown from a child into a poet
once I was careful with guns and now I am careless with words

but it hasn’t been that long
since a grenade pollinated with a rose bush
and bled a life into the ground
father was barefoot
frostbit toes wrinkled like dehydrated
blueberries sold on the organic shelves of a supermarket

the letter mother hid from me said things I am not meant to know
she took it to the kitchen and burnt it in a ceasefire

erased parents in an empty nest
can only weep in the infected cocoons of a sleepland
follow the whispers
I must be waiting
in the wrong place in the wrong time

how long ago is long ago?