Jonathan Finch
SLOW TIME
Slow time, slow time, or if
the rush is not resented, then
go like a wavering reed and run,
plucked from the shallow bed, into the sun.
Do not! Do not!
Slow time and never give
me cold caves, sinking levels, brief
lest leaving
(fast withering wreath)
leaves nothing-ever.
Feathering like a ruff
your hair (so ragged at the edges) haloes your face,
and ah, your eyes’ (my darling) brave blue bruised me –
penitent disgrace!
Slow time! Slow time! and we,
bettering the hours,
brake
never in perpetuity, though in the wake.
(from “”Love” Poems For Kathy / Green. Laced. Leaves”)
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