poetry & tsismis: emily's blog

November 3, 2013

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





 * * 



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