As the Hours Grow Smaller the Smaller Grows Flour
I had been reading all day and couldn’t feel my body.
There were shadowy figures at the edges that didn’t bother me.
A clasp unclasped in a place beyond my knowing.
How many trains had come by then?
I placed a cup at the edge of the table and left it there.
No one was listening.
I was walking without swimming.
Sewing without sleeping.
Seeing without keeping.
I was a woman
parched and stuffed with wadded T-shirts
braced against a tree.
Can you help her?
Are you lost?
There is no road.
The snowy road.
Ben Mirov's Hider Roser is forthcoming from Octopus Books.
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