A Poem by Kellyanne Fitzgerald
since we are at once, in several timestreams
the pastoral: cheese and apple cider for dinner
quarrel about who did the litter last, toothbrushes, tax deductions
and how many bookshelves this warm room needs. time ticking slow
as scrubbing egg from a casserole dish
the apocalyptic: morality of bringing children into this husking world.
digital shoppers and clothing tentacles on beaches, plastic straws
Amazon choking futures into pale possibilities. time all gone
used up already- living in the afterimage of the camera flash
the personal: blue limitless sky in memory as you push
from the wall into the pool, bubbles and chlorine and thousands of hours
distilled into three seconds of wavering water, cool happiness -
and the three ugly seconds that you live in for hours, playing again, and again, and
the escapist: arguing about Van Gogh, or Fleabag, or roaming Minecraft
sinking into the Phantom Tollbooth, or Narnia, or any other portal
to forgetting. time slung and strung out like telephone wires
carrying you tiny and buzzing, above the gritted roads and ragweed
the tragic: holes in the veils thrown hastily over grief
distance between hearts on google maps, the forgotten biscuit recipe
the last handmade birthday card from both grandparents.
where time is a racehorse and we are begging it to slow down
and since we have not been given a choice about our interesting times
i give you permission to occupy whichever needs you most.
Kellyanne Fitzgerald is a writer and artist based in Madison, Wisconsin. In her free time she enjoys language learning, fiber arts, and folk art illustration.
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