Chrono n o r m a t i v i t y

W h e n I w a s y o u n g e r m y m o u t h m o v e d l i k e t h i s .

Now I am compressed tight like a spring.

Wet whorls of spring wash up in my mouth as I dive into the lake.

I w i s h I c o u l d l i e b y t h e s h o r e l i k e I u s e d t o .

I t h i n k a b o u t t h e w a y I w a i t e d f o r a l o a f o f b r e a d t o r i s e .

I consider the speed at which I metamorphose by comparison.

The ticking of a clock is violence done unto me.

m y t i m e i s r u n n i n g i n t o w a l l s a l l b l o o d y n o s e d .

I a m n o t a g o o d t i m e k e e p e r w h e n t h e y s a y t h a n k s m a n .

I turn to my sacrificial sun dial to etch out another drop of blood.

I take one last selfie for the day, making up for years of painful antiphotogenicity.

I d o n ' t k n o w h o w l o n g I g o t i n t h i s b o d y , I b e t t e r e n j o y i t .