There is no lapse of time.
No tool to cut brain from the clock,
No silence of passage.
(Just a spot at the back of your neck
Where time kissed you on the steps of the school,
Found again in the den of your grandchildren,
Still wet.)
Accourding to Kirsten Thorpe:
Date: Tue, 9 Feb 1999 14:13:22 -0500 (EST)
From: thorpe@sas.upenn.edu (Kirsten L Thorpe)
and, this one, this one's like candy, but then it's gone, because it's a
"lapse" but "there is no lapse" and so it's here and gone all at once. i
love clocks in poems, and i can feel this one still wet at the end.
:)