reading room
a broken metronome
click. click— then silence. A room holds its breath like a barline stretched thin. I count with my ribs, find four in the flutter of three. The lamp hums a shaky tempo; rain plays triplets on glass. I pencil a beat on the desk, wood answering skin. Time is elastic when no one's watching. I practice the piece that won't still until the ending learns to arrive Fashionably late, but exactly right.
— Lilith