a mother and her toddler watching clouds
wash time's back; aglow with the effort.
a slow passing between their eyes
and the moon - it looks as if
the moon is moving -
backwards -
and everything else -
everything that there IS -
stays still -
onlooking.
her belief instilled in his, seeing past
clocktowers and cuffed wrist
watches checked and checked again for time
and still yet, time is not found
- but there, at chest and at hand -
some human heart's persistently argue for
their enigmatic pulse inhabiting space between
tic and again tic where a mother whispers:
do not forget to wish (- a sweet form of prayer)
or that you belong ...
everywhere to everyone.
