—And You were not the first of Creation
Twins fell from my hands lined only in
Palm, they were named Time and Change of same blood
They ran
River without sight of sun, Time—in her
Youth—he tossed her match and maker the sun
To Time in turn was passed the moon and dirt
Of earth
A crescent beneath the fingernail dragged
Into the shadow, ev’ry runaround
Stumble of theirs grew another sliver
Of star
Another splinter of seedling dripping
As clippings from long hair shorn and torn nails
And Time in doubt came one day to the End
Of All
Things—he asked Why was I ever borne at
All? —For Time must go, now—If only
To be borne away? Change has caught up and
To that
Shared and split, and she unravels that string
Infinite, he stitches self separate
Into the Heart—which set that breathless clay
Of Yours—
Schlepped and slick from the seasoned soil hard
To all the weathers and whethers of the world
Whirling to chase the sun slipping by the
Track of
Children’s wandering—Change knit of her twin
A Heart looming to You was Heart given
Purpose, ticking trick time, and to the back
To Change
I gave my hand, and I saw in its back
The tracks of Time again sown on skin not
Stars, I pushed him down, and she sketched in chest
The Soul
You remember the bloom of beat to fill
The Deeper and Down. Time gives you feeling—
She throws it as He did the sun across,
A way
For Change to catch, and He slips it into
Soled shadows so She can watch You crescent
Into coin, They have met as one in You
For change
Unwound Time to find it again, scattered
As seeds still smarting, They grow for You and—
You of two made from loose strings, and swirling
Into steps
Swept on a path to split scythed fields grown over
The edge not End, we are here once again
Between moon and sun, to why You run far
From me—
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