Marjorie DeLuca

Aspen Poets' Society
11:57 am
Tue November 5, 2013

Poem: Time Machine

Marjorie DeLuca
Credit Marjorie DeLuca

In the hours between dog and hyena,
they still serve lunch to a certain crowd.

He toddles in with his baggage:
a cane an oxygen tank a man-purse

an ample wife and her sister leading the way.
The machine that was the man is now

rusting, teeth rounded off the gears of time.
They take their time, as time is

all they have left, and with much animus
and screeching of sliding chairs

the women choose a table to our side.
He is not there. I am not here.

I know this man. Years of
running a business,

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