Time and Space
by Maria McDonnell
​
​
Time and Space
“Swore I could feel you through the walls, but that’s impossible.”
~ Phoebe Bridgers
​
The trees are always on the cusp
an ending & an entrance
warm winter cold spring.
​
Light in the window brings soft morning
in a smoky rented room galley kitchen overlooking the yard
bike fallen near the shed basketball in the garden.
​
Tonight could be a night on Magnolia Drive—
baby swimming in my bed—
a night on a chair in a private room
crash carts racing by the door.
Night alone in a king-sized bed
burning from within
phone on the pillow
everything is electric.
​
Stone steps from the Hall
chapel bells tell the hour but not the year.
This could the time they boarded up the library
or the day I fell and skinned my knees.
Today is four years ago my son is on the line
saying that people are dying in Italy
and I should lock the doors.
​
Today is tonight
and my son is on the other side
of the moon he’s sleeping in the room behind my bed.
He’s shooting a basketball that never stops arcing over the backboard
burning as it moves across the sky.
