Time is not told by watches,
past my best-before date: see end.
Movement restricted by cells,
I see only dull things.

Here I am,
breathing more uneasy.

The vows I made
recede, slow as gums.
We meet again
for the first time,
and I re-breathe
your warm smile.

Teeth, no longer my own,
made of resin,
they fit too well.

The Void in The Vacuum,
no singing,
no floating;
there is a word for this.

time_by_gaeadances-d5lu3sc (2015_09_28 11_13_35 UTC).jpg

This and other poems are available in The Heart and The Hand: UK

USA https://www.amazon.com/dp/B005OAX0VM

© Dean Harkness 2018