Sixteen Minutes To Ten
Sixteen Minutes to Ten
At sixteen minutes to ten it ended
snapped like the film in a theater camera
fluttering images slapping the hypnotized
beating against the white light’s call.
An empty coldness crept into the being
slowing the heart, seizing the nerves,
the warmth of the core exhaled
in vain attempt to reboot.
The eyes gazed at the old tower clock
sixteen minutes to ten.
That time would mark the end
of feeling, of laughter, of tears.
He would not see her arrive
inhale the wonder of her presence,
touch the silkiness of her flaxen hair.
He would not hear her shriek
as she saw him, lying on the stretcher
covered by a sheet – lifeless.
They had been lovers, confidantes,
intimately intrigued by one another
inquisitive as to the depth of
their relationships boundaries.
She had dreamed of a future – their future -
together in the coming springtime
walking slowly in the April rains,
hot dogs and cotton candy at the fair
on the Forth of July, pumpkins and
Thanksgiving, snow angels.
hot chocolate kisses.
They were new to this – romance -
moving cautiously through each
nuance of love’s mystery,
each level of connection,
each imagined fulfillment.
At sixteen minutes to ten it ended.
John G. Lawless
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