She Wishes for a Different Poem

by Elizabeth Greene

You quoted Marvell.
Now we’re stuck
with Time’s winged chariot
always rushing
toward classes, meetings,
appointments, trains
(you’d think Time’s chariot
might stop and give a lift).
We steal hours and half hours
unnoticed and untracked.

inside those rags and shards
of ordinary days
there’s a different poem,
one we’re writing with
tangled lips, toes, souls.
Diamond chip moments
stolen from clocks.
Sappho knew them,
Propertius on his rare
nights with Cynthia.

We need a poem
for these sunlit mornings,
made from breath and blood,
words and beat apart from
the day before and after.

— from Juniper Volume 1, Issue 1