Time to Consider Father

Published on by Francesca Quarto

He enters silently,

leaving no trace of his having touched me while I slept.

He is without conscience in the damage he inflicts

his only concern is marking me, the next day, next month, next year.

Marked with the passage of his unseen, withered hand

I am altered, moment by moment, until

I become a stranger in the mirror.

Escape is impossible.

Time will own me.

But a place of refuge is found, if only temporarily

in a cornucopia of creams and oils, in this battle against the inevitable thief

stealing my youth.

I will go gracefully, before my eventual fall to the winnowing floor

I will, however, go with my thumb in his eye

when he winks me out of Time.

Can I do less?

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