By Cosenza Hendrickson
Time is an untuned harmonium
that Muzaks our nights and days.
and we are forever
jostling each other
in and out of that God-rhythm they call love— last night,
for instance,
we were hurting each other
at the end of a perfect day,
under the floodlights that loomed over us, their brightness
cold and hollow as an empty theater.
Time does not heal anything.
Only gods can do that.
But God told us we are gods:
our fingers,
our lips,
our singing softly on the drive home.
