From c1eb96578e5a40d2b6eaee0ace394cff8daf197b Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Case Duckworth Date: Mon, 2 Mar 2015 16:47:25 -0700 Subject: First complete compile --- time-looks-up-to-the-sky.html | 41 +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 1 file changed, 41 insertions(+) create mode 100644 time-looks-up-to-the-sky.html (limited to 'time-looks-up-to-the-sky.html') diff --git a/time-looks-up-to-the-sky.html b/time-looks-up-to-the-sky.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e0724b0 --- /dev/null +++ b/time-looks-up-to-the-sky.html @@ -0,0 +1,41 @@ + + + + + + + + + + Time looks up to the sky | Autocento of the breakfast table + + + + + + + + +
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Time looks up to the sky

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I wish I’d kissed you when I had the chance.
Your face hovering there, so near to mine,
your mouth pursed—what word was it you pronounced?

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When I think about you, something in my pants
tightens, and my thoughts run, and I realize
I should’ve kissed you when I had the chance.

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I want that moment never to be past
like Keats’s lovers on the grecian urn:
his mouth pursed, her figure turned to pronounce

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her hips in ways that are not feminist.
But time strolls mildly on, not glancing at my
wish to kiss you when I had the chance,

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whispered like a beggar to a prince
outside his palace: time looks up to the sky,
purses his lips, and hears what I pronounce

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but pays it little mind. If he would just
turn back, bend down, and follow my design,
I would have kissed you when I had the chance,
as your mouth pursed and you pronounced goodbye.

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