All That Farmland, Baby, All That Fertilizer!
I am learning to wear time down
to its bitter, barren seed,
to hold it and roll it from finger to
finger while the dead
rock their perpetual
children to sleep.
a day grows another day
and I bury it.
I am learning. I am sun speckled,
veined with light
like the crows, who burn black
into embers, who
memorize the faces of the living
until they disappear.
Bury a day for long enough
and soon the sun
comes running, the shadows
busy at their looms.
I am learning to dance with
four legs and
four arms, stepping on your
green feet
and your bare green toes.
There won’t be any time left
when we’re done with it.
Norah Brady is a moon enthusiast from Boston, MA living abroad in Germany. Her poetry and short fiction can be found in COUNTERCLOCK, Kissing Dynamite, Dishsoap Quarterly, and Blue Marble Review.