Burning Daylight

burning daylight--see here--touch
the match to the edge of the
day wobbling from the bowl-
gelatin-smooth, it is still
malleable, transparent, tasteless,
waiting for our imprint to be
pressed into it, the flavors
and spicings so hard thought
of the night before
to do, to do--what to do, what
to do indeed

the edges smoke up, thin,
wispy white, ghosts of
all those wanted things fast
hurrying away--oh life, ah
love, the script disappearing
as it appears--it curls and
curves and sneers, too, twisting
back to taunt--see here--I am
no more--I evaporate to air

and you will remain, and will
remain, for a space and
then again for yet another space,
fingers singed with the
matches, matchless, used to
burn time, oh so casually,
with a flip of the
wrist

always hungry for more--
daylight is so--insubstantial--
now here, now there, we
try to make a meal, secure
some flesh to sear, shore up our
reserves for the night-ness
of the days to come--as
they will, stern soldiers staring
down their noses--another and
another, marching, marching on

as daylight burns whitehot, burning
our thin tissues of memory folded
safe away, the blueprints inked
too soon, patient pages sighing,
no more, no more, no more