TIME WARP
By Cynthia Buiza

You are always the particular lack
of an ordinary day.

Last night, I came home and blew kisses
towards your direction before I closed the door.

You were home earlier than me
peeling the oranges and letting me drink from them
before you peeled me inch to anguished inch
and dislocated me again from my place in the world.

But this was before I remembered how far away you are
before I knew that the days laid waste between us
darken like fallen leaves after a violent storm.

They rot in my imagination like garbage.
And not even my wildest dreams can rescue them.

© Cynthia Buiza

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