It’s no longer acceptable to wear a wristwatch,
you must tell time by the shadows
cast on buildings and trees.
You are not allowed to look at your phone,
that would be rude.
Prove that you can navigate the world
without props and aids.
Use your head.
Imagination is a peculiar loam,
in the dark matter we don’t understand.
The poet dies in his sleep.
And I’m jealous
because that is a good way to go
and I fear I might linger.
My grandfather told me his ticker was slowing down.
He felt it. I planned to visit soon.
Within the clock’s twenty-four hour sweep
his heart stopped.
Cathryn Shea is the author of “It’s Raining Lullabies” (dancing girl, 2017) and “My Heart is a Salt Mirror Like Salar de Uyuni” (Rinky Dink, 2018). She’s been nominated for Best of the Net and appears in Tar River Poetry, Gargoyle, Permafrost, Rust + Moth, Tinderbox, etc. See www.cathrynshea.com and @cathy_shea.
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