Time Piece

On the clock-face, the hand traverses identical divisions during the torture session and making love.

- G. Steiner, Grammars of Creation

To J.G.M

It is everything to my loneliness
To hear this pocket watch against my ear:
This constant clicking...

Of her heart
Her breath…
Her breath.

Each tick has its time,
Its separate name and place,
Its particular frame and face.

What constancy,
What transcendent being,
Holds them to this center in me?

Thousands of me
And thousands of her
And every attitude of beauty
In her face.

In a thousand instant frames
Flashing in my mind
Between each tick of time.

I know
She is eternal
For me.

A Note:

This piece was written on 25 Friday 2003 in Ponferrada, Spain while I was walking the Camino de Santiago.

I spent the hour or so before lights out reading George Steiner’s Grammars of Creation.

After reading the passage indicated at the beginning, I lay back in my bunk and stared at the slats of the bunk above me, with the pocket watch that J.G.M. had given me pressed up against my ear, listening to the clicking steps of time as it moved through the halls of my memories.