Time is broken
Martin Bush

into bits
pieces after pauses
its scraps mislaid
by haste and
precipitous pace

I am segmented
stitched together
from spent seconds
my minutes are mired
in routine

I sacrifice the serious
celebrate the spurious
facts and faults
wasting
time and flesh
the skin thins
blood thins
in vein

I ache for recess
from action
from incessant intensity
restless necessity
I ache for rest
from restless energy
and endings
to endless efficiency
such solace cessation
of the ceaseless
would be!
but no

I acquiesce
instead to regulation
by tyrant
time
ticking
tapping
clicking
uncaring
until

in tardy reverence
I reminisce
I drown
in warm nostalgia
flaccid
weak wonder
faintly
fills me
I grasp at memories
the fragile fleetness
that was
today

Where went the river of childhood
when moments were eddies
in pools of wonder
liquid hours flowed
with such languid ease?
The waterways marked now
with dams
manufactured stone
squares the sweeping shore
and stands
mute witness
to loss

Lost
are my lies
victims of gravid
age frail
fictions trampled
by tempo
my moments trip now
please wait
in heedless haste
stop
as they flee
stay
the headlong rush
please
of the next.