Give Me Time
Give me time
My fingers are remembering the delicate choices
I borrow things from the discourse
Because I need words
Like a thermometer
To feel what is in you deep
And then write your pain
With my own feelings
Upon paper.
For every season there is a prophet
Who understands history so well
Tomorrow is a broken spell
An egg
Without feather or bone
Or map of chemistry.
Give me time
I am making a noose out of fire
Will you come too
The fitting was yesterday
And I was absent too for it.
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