The hours, the minutes
slip through my fingers
like fancy buttons popping off dresses,
coins disappearing through pocket holes,
warm sunshine snuffed by clouds.
Like candle smoke snaking through air,
petals discarded by a clumsy rose,
minute mica sparkling in sidewalks,
racecars raising easy dust.
is my favorite time—
sunlight slanting, a last hurrah,
and the Dopplered din of the train
like something remembered,
unvisited open shores.
Kate Deimling is a translator, poet, and fiction writer. Her poems have recently appeared in Rockvale Review, Ekphrastic Review, and Slipstream, and she is a poetry reader for Bracken. She has translated six books from French on topics ranging from the wine industry to Renaissance art. A native New Orleanian, she lives in Brooklyn with her family.