marking time, the errors come
thick and fast we're at a loss
count or, laughing, to recount them;
I recognize, because
mine, mine word for word.
only this to do, it's hard
time till the baby's born,
are over and I can return
a family grown without me around.
marking time to clear debts.
waste spaces comes the sound
a high school marching band.
cold drum majorettes
the dirt of a football pitch.
fogged windows in an overheated room
losing its grip: for days
treacherous turned to wetness,
froze, ice crazing a pane;
retreated by inches, and what was
in us through these last years -
patches where the sun doesn't reach,
piles of exhausted black snow -
die, but remained, and is still.
watch your step down under the hill;
encourage the others, make examples of words,
in high-walled back gardens loud birds
changes, marking time, and here we go.