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Stepping on stepping off

By Karen Wolf


on either side of the colon, where

numbers dictate. A cardinal feeds when


empty, predators far. Red

numerals slash


more sleep minutes across a bedroom

wall. Dawn roosters


while a jack rabbit forages

time but my clock boxes remnants


of my paired life: clothes, crucial

books, a double handled cleaver stops


at a box of journals that houses

expectations, cavernous


disappointments, views bathed in

turquoise light. Cathartic to


watch a fireplace flame consume

the years, one at a time. Dali’s


clock slides back

up the table. Sun


and stars, growling stomach, one iron

heavy eye lid, my



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