Human Time
Beige building with
black mildew streaking
down the side
Shut blinds above a
kitchen sink I
know is there
A plastic bottle
of luminous dish soap
its hourglass
at half
Succulents’ small utterances
Faint gloom
You dissecting a crow
in science class
years ago
Someone with a clipboard
outside the market
asking for signatures
A cloud and a plane
pulled in opposite directions
Someone pushing me
up against a locker
cool
orange metal
at my shoulders
On the sunlit album cover
a price sticker
almost touching
the folk singer’s
pinched brow
Two chairs
at the table
sit together
proxies for us
in human time
we’re still outside of
Between each hour
and the next
are days
we take cover in
like roadside brush
I pressed
with my fingers
to “see”
A limp little forest
trying to remain
upright
Isn’t rigidity a number’s job
the blanket’s job
to be sad
The white t-shirt’s anonymity
The dusk takes with it
every detail