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Poem of the Week: We Can't Go By The Sundial by George Grace

By George Grace

Born and raised in a town
divided more or less
down the middle

by a time zone
my love living in a rent-by-the week
motel fifty yards/one hour away
from my bungalow has caused rifts

when she was either one hour too late
or I one hour too early and so we found
a good couples counselor

in her time zone though I must admit
I have missed a few sessions
owing to my disorientation.

Without synchronization
you’ll miss the important things in life
he said so you’ll either have to divide the difference
or someone will have to compromise
and wear a watch with the other’s time

and so I volunteered to do it
though I had issues with people
in faraway places arbitrarily deciding
our sun should rise and set simultaneously,
one hour apart.

She made me vow that when she dies
I must carry her body into my time zone
so it can be said
she spent one hour less
enduring this wreck of a century.

I, on the other hand.
want to die in her time zone
so it can be said
I found the courage to face it
one hour longer.
Contributor’s Note: GEORGE GRACE is a Buffalo-based artist, poet, playwright and writer whose books include “American Stonehenge,” “Night Wanes, Dawn” (Writer’s Den Press, 2012) and “Steeling America: A Poetic Memoir of Lackawanna’s Bethlehem Steel Plant” also published in 2014 by the Writer’s Den Press.

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