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Poet Harris Gardner submitted a poem from his new collection, No Time for Death. The book was published by Somerville’s Cervena Barva Press.

Stopwatch

Harris Gardner

Let’s start by shredding all the odd years.
Then, take a match to all the evens.
Slice and dice all the minutes until they bleed white.
Pound in a block to slow the growling gears.
Mortar and pestle the grinding seconds. Blunt their bite.
Smash all the clocks, yes, the craven cuckoos, too.

Fast-forwarding the film frames few regrets, though
The mirror shows the sweep-hand rounding your face.
There is no crystal case to hold your works.
It’s not time’s business to offer you perks.
The crushing R.I.P. tide crinkles your crown.
Worn out, you may drown, still, in the shallows.

Your mind stores snapshots, both fuzzy and clear.
Photo albums freeze mortality’s stare.
The lens is keen. It sees what it sees.
The present deep cleans an encrusted past;
Then polishes it to a pristine sheen.
Future scenes, left alone, develop on their own.

Pare away the wrinkled pages.
Strip bare temporal confusion.
Vanity’s illusion brooms the dust.
Search the phases of your soul.
Find the last clock. Make it whole.
When the keeper sleeps, he loosens control.

— Harris Gardner

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