time

this afternoon i took a shower by the light of the midday sun
the water held me in its uncertain arms
and i was glad to comfort it in its lack of definition,
falling all around my solid shape
although i wish it could do the same for me
later on, the petals on the flowering trees hung low under humid clouds
not mildly shifting in the breeze like they usually do
and as i stood at the wood railing, moisture soaking into my skin
my blood was beating strong and fast against sleeping veins
flirting its way through numb fingertips
i could finally breathe, and i recalled a certain memory
drowning, drowning
a knock on the door, distorted underwater
biding my time, gazing at the curves of the ceiling through pointed eyelashes
drowning, drowning
a sweet distant voice, repeating something
honey, turn the water off, it says
it has the potential to overflow
and i think it is just like my anger, now gracefully ebbing
leaving me here with my soft cold regret
drowning, drowning
in seasalt and memories, and electricity
left over from the last time that i touched
your hand, such love you showed me
take care of her, take care of all of us, they shout
take care of yourself if there's some time left over
you're the only one keeping this family from falling to pieces
by letting yourself do so, and hiding it well
we're sorry, you're still just a child, a few more decades
and your time will come to run away, if you want to
come on, just wait
it'll be a wonderful experience, they say
but i don't think it will.
it hasn't been.
"look at the endless waves", she'd instructed me earlier
dancing through the frigid blue with bare feet
worn down by the sand and the sidewalks
"watch the sea foam riding the crests
they are always changing and yet their routine never changes at all
rolling and breaking, they are so infinite"
oh, sweet innocent, haven't you heard?
i'm sure you were supposed to have learned by your old age;
everything has an end.
even the seas turn to deserts.
the ocean is much too cold to swim today, it's only march, and i mumble a refusal
"what does time matter, anyway?" she is confused, i can tell.
"i'm alive, i'm in this place, i may be gone tomorrow."
and i look at her graying hair and tired skin
her parted lips and laughing eyes, staring at me
waiting for a response to her naive perception of the world
she is the sister of my father, the strong and brazen
he always wondered what went wrong when she turned out so different
but i think that maybe we've always been the misguided ones.
so i'll erase that memory and turn around
and press my face against the reflection in the glass, while the world keeps raining.