Time Loses Substance


Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

 we leave shutters open in fear

that inner storms won’t pass easily.


rooting. pinned in chairs.

day five or seven, it doesn’t matter.


blinding each other in battles of syllables

crusted with yesterday’s hates and today’s small uncertainties,

decorating cakes in pained pastels.


better to butter your bread

singe tea,

 collapse inside yourself

on this dusky morning.


sew lips closed

as shutters clack against painted clapboard

and we measure out planned vacancies.


Copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2022. 


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