Autonomy

How many hours wasted rooting
for the minute hand instead of myself.
Been treading water for what feels like years.
There’s a comfort in the way the world quiets
underneath the liquid line, muffled like
or whistling, and the water my temperature.
Welcome. Clocks only serve as reminders
that we’re late or that we have to wait.
The airy edge, a death, hiding sacred
secrets of the falling and the phoenix,
pushes so slightly, presenting a challenge,
a raised eyebrow, Are you in this with me
without extended hands, an empty pit
always waiting, and below: do I dare ─

Source: Alexandra Levasseur

Source: Alexandra Levasseur