Con-Cepts of Time
C. FAUSTO CABRERA, IOWA
Time is clutched in claws
of my crow’s feet, by smiles or frowns.
Sounds of ticking heartbeats irregular—
without cogs or quartz.
There are two numbers I subtract from;
one given by an Honorable Judge,
the other clock kept by a greater Judge—
The difference means the world;
means my weight in the world.
What’s time about besides greed?
How it grasps, offers healing by phrase;
How we walk the treadmill, pass a phase—
In the dementia eyes of this disappearing Father
Some stranger checks a face and gasps at the weight
of the wait for a set schedule unfollowed; like the fictions
don’t make the facts so much stranger. Even if the alarm
is set, and these sweeping hands seem to move forward
What we begin we won’t always finish