Time Runs Out

Robert Priest

 

Time runs out. It runs out of town on its perpendicular horse leaving only space. The sand grain stuck in the throat of the hourglass. The moon with a face like a stopped clock. Time runs out on its commitment to keep things going. Space an endless wave arched over breath half out of lungs. The heart between beats. Time stops everywhere. And no one notices. We are place creatures only, struggling to look sideways, craning for the right angle glance—the dance in square time. But the stare can’t meet the eye now. The kiss has no chronology to complete itself. Time runs out on marriage. Time runs out for sex. The treaty is broken without the clock and its worrisome increments. And if our eyes are on the horror we can't drag our eyes away from the horror. Or if we’ve already looked away we can’t look back. There is no ‘again’. The calendar shows only place. What date is it? Here. What does the word ‘next’ mean. Here. The man about to die not dying ever.  Here. Here. No one has informed the wind though. It goes on blowing though the hole in the sail. Mere geography. Its vector an infinitessimon in freeze-frame. Only the animals can proceed. Birds fly past the last bird, whales surge beyond the end of all things. They ran out of time long ago. Now they run out of space. Extinction gets them all. Leaving only us, faces pressed flat against the glass, schedules half open at our wrists, straining to move through walls, and drag history with us.

 

 

 

Robert Priest is the author of seventeen books of poetry. His words have been debated in the legislature, posted in the Transit system, quoted in the Farmer's Almanac, turned into a hit song and sung on Sesame street. His latest recording of songs and poems BAAM! is available on Spotify, YouTube and iTunes. robertpriest.org