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.
