last night i emptied all the clocks into the bathtub
(they kept clogging time’s artery with their minutes)
earlier, we dragged june across the garden
by its wet sleeves
we said:
“let’s snip off the faded roses”
and we snipped them off
“let’s save the daylight”
and we filled three jars –
the daylight ferments beautifully
beneath the kitchen sink

the good and the bad years sleep together
in the drawer like tangled christmas lights

not saying that with a heavy heart either –
I feel quite spry and light as a feather
(according to recent measurements,
a memory weighs less than a sparrow)

the years are seaweed around my ankles
with small silver fish that nibble at my toes
whenever I pull at a strand of wire-weed
the whole frondy circuit instantly
lights up

the lake god
buttons the night’s shirt
smelling of distant thunder
laughing through mossy teeth
as the sky above lights up too
with its chandelier of bright plump pears
and there’s only so much to do on
this blue dinner plate
left unattended
far too long
in the sink of the universe