Stepping Sequentially Through Time


by Elizabeth Mathes


 

has its  kinks, backwashes, rips.

Salty spark of a morning kiss remembers better, wonders if it’s good enough.

 

My morning commute stops off the dike road.  A dinosaur- evolved bird

skewers its prey holding fast its space in time.

The fish line severs, drops

in beads of unrealized roe.

Stretching her lovely growing

my ten o-clock rests her tresses

on my therapy couch, mimicking a history

she doesn’t know.

I thought I was getting sick, she tells me,

Now I know, I’m just growing up.

Aged ills and I  sit  across from her collecting insight.

 

Off the rings of Saturn, a PBS evening Star Gazer

muses that  time moves in linear threads that curve.

I question if

I’ve seen this episode before.

The night breaks in a porcelain vat

light splitting spacetime

in refractions off a soap bubble.

The present loops past the future

 

my newly hatched

Tyrannosaurus arms

splash in bathtub waters.

 


 

Elizabeth Mathes is a counselor who specializes in autism. She is married to a music educator and composer. They have a 29-year-old adult son with low-functioning autism who lives with them. She is often inspired to write on daily walks with her son amid the North Idaho alpine and glacial beauty.