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
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