Precision of the Minute Hand
The dark of October carries my darkness
in an empty birdcage, in not saying a word
to air that whispers incessantly, just below
my ear— dark face to face— I can’t look in-
to the eye of waking in the scent of camphor
& cedar— the fate of keeping something
wrapped in plastic.
…………………………………..For how long?
There, and not there—sad, or is it beautiful
brocade dress— once worn perfectly, and
now who will it fit? Who does this belong
to? Why am I putting it on in the dark?
M.J. Iuppa ‘s fourth poetry collection is This Thirst (Kelsay Books, 2017).For the past 30 years, she has lived on a small farm near the shores of Lake Ontario. Check out her blog: mjiuppa.blogspot.com for her musings on writing, sustainability & life’s stew.
