the skin of time

by mistersoto

the skin of time

my attention
skates the floor
busy with work
busy with play
time scurried
over the hills
its shedded skin
left behind
in the depths of afternoon
my fingers
caress the indentations
on the shell left behind
my actions
measured by what hasn’t happened

in some vacated moment
propped against a wall
you leant back
my thumb
navigated the line of your lip
even your flesh and bone
couldn’t break the fantasy
of indelibility
our skin on the planks
of the floorboards
we waited
for the sirens