Suppose you take a moment
out of your busy day and reflect,
like a mirror, on your failings
since you fell victim to the CVA

and were unable to tell the time
by ear or simple sense of gap between
this moment and the last:
suppose time were lost to you

and suppose you have fallen prey to
a sort of despair that clings to you
with your head down, a weight
on your neck, more than a blanket roll

but less than a rock, a boulder even;
time moving so, so slowly as you try
to think fast, to respond as you used to;
suppose you found yourself like this

one day, thought it would pass
but then ths next day comes and it does not;
didn’t you ramble about your worry
that this might happen? You can’t take this

perpetually unchanging sense of time
not being yours to govern. You can’t take
time not being yours to command. A stroke
changes all of it. A stroke humbles you

implacably. I woke up insatiable
focused on the correct time like a drink
that would soothe me and instead a clock
proves my undone worth. I’m going to sit here

until I have failed utterly. Suppose
I will find a balance between what I think
the time should be and what it is? Fat chance.
A rock and another rock, grinding me down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

onward,
T