As You Fall Victim To the Sand of Some Unknown Hourglass

early morning light filtered through a whisper of curtains, she pulls on her stockings to cover the bruises something about the texture makes her feel clean again as if thin-spun nylon could restore purity or award her an innocence she only half believes lost somewhere it's still spring & there, she wakes to soft-lipped revelations & wordless understanding rather than the sore spots & sense of times rapid loss, the grain by grain view of hourglass seconds, she's grown used to