timedrops

I don’t count the days,
weigh the weeks or mark the months
on a calendar.
I don’t measure the minutes
with a watch or any clock.

I track time’s passage
in teardrops, like sands trickling
through an hourglass neck.
Time puddles below but my
upper half never empties.

No chronology
of my sadness can be writ:
the how-longs have sunk,
the whens have washed away and
the timeline has eroded.

Counting syllables instead of seconds to craft this set of tankas for the yeah write September poetry slam.

3 thoughts on “timedrops

  1. The short syllabic lines usually make me read tanka quick and cheerfully. I like how your tone slowed the tanka down here. As always, your thoughtful wordplay makes your poetry feel like acrobatics: the how-longs have sunk, the whens have washed away.

    Liked by 1 person

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