poem for today - The Clock in the Closet (Piercy)

[plantgirl]

The clock in the closetI'll never get old, says the fifteen-year-old

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[plantgirl]

Myself, I can't spare a single year.
I see my younger selves on landings
of that winding stair of years, gesticulating,
weeping, [...]
fighting the wrong battles in the right wars,
dropping words that would swarm me, stinging.
I wring what wisdom I own from every hour.