Time folds back and back on itself
like my uncle’s accordion
in our airless attic
pleated patterns create
shortcuts to the future
I tumble through trap
doors & silent tunnels
at the speed of light, arriving
breathless in a world
where our boots still crackle
pine needles & scales of sun still
float through dark branches
where we stop by a secluded stream
share sandwiches, apples, cookies &
each other
I see you walking down West Ridge
A wooden box under your arm
I call out
I see you kneel & raise the lid
your back toward me
I see your shoulders shake
I hear the sound of a polka
played in a distant past
I can’t breathe in this airless place
I see you
Claire Scott is an award winning poet who has been nominated twice for the Pushcart Prize. Her work has been accepted by the Atlanta Review, Bellevue Literary Review, Healing Muse, and Vine Leaves Literary Journal among others. Her first book of poetry, Waiting to be Called, was published in 2015.