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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4085 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention An Afternoon, Disaster Gary Blankenship Its hold tenuous, the clock falls - seconds spread like ash from the last eruption of Glacier Peak; minutes explode into filaments too long to be an instant, too short to time the race from Beginnings to Almost the End; hours pour sludge across the floor, covering a moment of What Is Past and an instant of what might have borne a premature Today. The days seem to end or at least drag on, birthdays and holiday present times always too far away to beg to open Just One, to search for gifts hid under the bed in plain site, anniversaries forgotten, much as before. Seconds later, or at least part of an age, we shake the dust from our hair, gingerly pick minute fragments from our clothes, and with our feet upon the table, wait the announcer’s final word. |
