Another Time | Amanda Leigh Lichtenstein
Back snapped like time capsule
Bursting with dust from the good old days
Bracketed and packaged in saran wrap,
Parceled and stamped fresh to study
The hair and skin, who needed it? I emptied
The belly of wanting and insisted on despair
I steered the horse into water to see it swim,
Pressed play on its whinny and wondered
Paused its disastrous attempts, the bending
Of knees and eyes wide in horror – oh, dark
Cloud where are you to complete the mood?
I wouldn't look at what was sad, not then.
The hands fold into a second glance, fists
Like knots of crystal waving in the dark
I need to accept boats as decent modes
Of transport and forget the gallant horse.
Accept maps as representations
And not itself any sort of real plan.
I know the difference when I try to call home:
The numbers disappear inside my mouth.