hay fever

"An hour, once it lodges in the queer element of the human spirit, may be stretched to fifty or a hundred times its clock length; on the other hand, an hour may be accurately represented on the timepiece of the mind by one second."
 –Virginia Woolf, Orlando

 

 

We sit on the grass,

we sing, we laugh

plucking weeds and flowers with our fingers

“This is my favourite time of the day”

so we sit and we

wait

 

We lie down on our bellies

we sing, we laugh

“When it’s not dusk yet but the sun starts to tire”

 

We watch the clouds turn orange

we watch the sky turn pink

and we sit, we

wait

“The sky is on fire”

 

We sit and we

wait

“I thought you said you hated the sun”

I do when it blinds me

clings to me and pierces my clothes

reddens my skin and hurts me

 

But now the sun is tired,

so we sit and we

wait

“I could lie here forever”

we stretch out  our legs

we rest our heads on the palms of our hands,

dirty hands,

green hands

 

We look up

heads up behind shades, eyes shut

and we smile.

We just

wait

 

Later we still wait,

all stretched out, on our backs

“This day has been so long”

yet so short

 

We’ve been sitting here

for two summers and

two springs

yet we wait still

“I could lie here forever”

 

It’s only

already

been

two summers

and two springs

“The time in the mind you said—”

 

So we sit and we

wait.

Dusk never fails to come.

“The time on the clock”, you said

but now we just

wait

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