2 POEMS: Daylight Savings Time

I found these two poems that I wrote almost exactly ten years ago, but never published. As we “Fall Back”, it seems like as good a day as any to share these. Ah, the nostalgia; I must have been in a melancholic state. It seems like a whole life time ago. As my poetry professor used to say, Onward!

Please leave comments below. Salamat/Thanks.

*

Layover, Chicago O’Hare International Airport

© by Emily P. Lawsin

*

I confess: walking

through airports, I always look

for you, wandering.

 *

Sometimes I spot you:

in a mother’s long embrace

of her son going off to college

  *

Sometimes I see you

in a young couple’s face: streams

of mascara kissing their nose

  *

Sometimes I feel you

in the tunnel breeze: that bridge

of ocean blue flickering, mimicking sky.

  *

Yesterday I followed you,

the scent of sunflower petals

and salty seeds drifting in the wind.

  *

Tonight I saw you,

in a moonlit corner of a terminal bar,

nursing a Tom Collins alone.

  *

Tomorrow I’ll find

you at your corner bookstore

reading The Celestine Prophecy,

leaving no energy for words.

  *

But right now, I set my watch back,

as Daylight Savings Time ends:

I wait

  *

For this delayed connection home.

*

Sunday, October 26, 2003

to Detroit

*

 * * *

  *

Father Time: Daylight Savings

© by Emily P. Lawsin

*

   *

her glassy eyes burn

stares down the eclipsed tunnel

   *

holding the ticking clock’s arms in her wrinkled hands,

remembering the crimson maple leaves and lady bugs

   *

that kissed their bare shoulders

like tears falling from the sky

  *

searching and finding more time

in the dusk of the arboretum.

   *

remembering now

the back of his un-starched shirt

   *

as he walked out the side door.

the crick in his neck

   *

as he balanced his  brief     case,

   *

the ring of keys on his belt loop not jangling,

despite his swift stride.

   *

he never looked back,

just left her sitting at their hilltop café

   *

to pay the bill.

   *

plastic honey bears empty and toppled

at their unstable table.

  *

each year she still sits there watching the time,

waiting for him to finish his rotten meal

   *

or at least leave the waitress a tip

so she can go home.

   *

Sunday, October 31, 2004

3:45 PM EST

Detroit

*

*

*

 * * 

 **

  *