As The Rush Comes (for Cecilia Woloch)

Cecilia says my best words are yet to come,
so I wrote these slowly, died a little more in their creation.
We are all slipping away.
I unplug the clock, keep timetables for slow boats to China,
trains that travel cross country, more simple ways to live.

Everyone is eventually overtaken,
our paths littered with disappointment, heartbreak,
deaths of those we don't realize we love until they are gone.
And this will be interspersed with joy so fast you'll need
a tight net to catch and hold it for even a short time.

Cecilia flies to both coasts, is writing her best words
in high-walled white rooms I helped her find
on this side of the world.
She uncorks the vessel of her travels, grief and sorrow,
let's them flow on pages, as I prepare to break the seal,
regain time and consciousness of all those things I had put away.
The clock sits un-tethered from its source and still it ticks.

Originally appeared in New Delta Review