the hardest part is
elasticity
i remember when all was iron-clad
i knew how to count the days and
the hours that wrought them
i remember
the smudge of iron left
on the pads of my fingers where we touched
the dizzying rotation of earth around sun
and the shadows she cast,
inadmissibly real in the unbent light
now in the timeless
hour
when the light has changed
i miss the turn
of the clock-hands i miss
the tick and the tock
i miss
the promise
of constancy
and of tomorrow —
now i, too, have learned how to shapeshift
Ali Lang is a junior studying psychology and philosophy. She is interested in the ways we represent, remember, and relate to one another.
