Sara Fielder - Elastic Hours

Lick the potash with contempt
I'm made into

A silent frown of balled up yarn
and wood grain

My cold hands stretch these elastic hours
into days that pass
two at a time

I lie around
trying to make sentences and love myself


Contaminated by tinnitus
As expectant

as a dog wearing uncontained excitement


and let down when the sun sets without a bone



My own,
locked together with bailing wire
that work in vain to show how
much you mean to me


and ache,
because of all the fun we're missing.

Sara Fielder

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