FALL/ WINTER 2016

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Jacqueline Moss

NEW YORK TIME

Three hours
I have three hours
to pray

Before
the sun climbs over your California canyon
and shines light on your solitary bed

Before you

get up
shave, make coffee, make lists

The dogs' dishes are washed and stored away
The cage is empty
and you are free

Three hours
I beg
Make deals
Ask the Mother/Father Matrix
for a sign
a delivery date
a guarantee

I knead the flour of time
with my mother hands
into a braided bread

My prayers rise
New York
is San Diego
Three hours
is nothing

My prayers are audible
Sonic
The signal is heard

Angels fly
Red Eye West
across the Rockies
and land 
Follow you down your driveway 
through the wild ramblings of your day

 

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