Each Minute, Each Year
After the thickness of night, a salty morning
moistened by invisible strands of Gulf Stream
that I imagine are yellow like saffron melting
into another day and another day. I watch
two women stroll down the sidewalk, arms
swinging like pulleys back to home and family,
drivers zip by in a kaleidoscope of
madness and metal, on errands to fill up
their days. While overhead seagulls laugh
and linger and I linger, too, waiting for you
to come back, for our normal
to begin again.
Thanks to artist John Phandal Law and Paul Brooks of The Wombwell Rainbow for this prompt.