Ellen Zhang ‘19
Time wobbles a little, a top
in motion before spillage.
Voices grinding between bone,
parting into new land. Everything
shifts suddenly like spatial
jolting or flashing of aftermath
even before impact.
Leave the yellow tape, chalk markings
so bold, flimsy gray tarp, settling flakes.
Are you okay? Warmth stirs from
the radiator. You will be okay?
Two hours later, you are okay. '
When dusk tightens, sinking,
the metronome of normality
resyncs. As remembered or
envisioned or hoped. Traffic
shimmers. Snow into slush into
wet socks into numb damp toes.
Street lights begin to halo.