Someone said they
made all the difference, started
a movement, lighted the
streets of Copenhagen and
Paris. I'm not so sure; I'm
only here for a short time,
can't seem to catch my
breath. I have dismantled all
the clocks, carefully sorting the parts
into appropriately labeled bins. Here
are the hands you lost in the
war, and a pallet
for you to lie down on. There are
enough springs to restore hope
to your remaining years. I
can no longer stay; the portion
of god's shawl into which my name
is stitched is raveled beyond
recognition. Already
my breath blows the leaves
from the trees. Already the wind
has forgotten my voice.


copyright 2010, Dan Lewis

Flashlights was winner of the Worcester Magazine Annual Poetry Contest, 2010 and was first printed in Worceser Magazine.