Marjorie DeLuca en Poem: Time Machine <div class="listenDetails__description"><div><p>In the hours between dog and hyena,<br />they still serve lunch to a certain crowd.</p><p>He toddles in with his baggage:<br />a cane an oxygen tank a man-purse</p><p>an ample wife and her sister leading the way.<br />The machine that was the man is now</p><p>rusting, teeth rounded off the gears of time.<br />They take their time, as time is</p><p>all they have left, and with much animus<br />and screeching of sliding chairs</p><p>the women choose a table to our side.<br />He is not there. I am not here.</p> Tue, 05 Nov 2013 18:57:17 +0000 Marjorie DeLuca 9859 at Poem: Time Machine