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,
protest,
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
https://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Heart-Hand-Dean-Harkness-ebook/dp/B005OAX0VM/ref=sr_1_4?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1387359721&sr=1-4&keywords=The+Heart+and+The+Hand

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

© Dean Harkness 2018

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