de Lay

You are my tireless creature.
In the light of noon with seconds to go
You place one hand on my chest:
Wait, you say.
We can connect the dots in any order.
Deadlines are dead lines.
I can show you life.
There are a thousand cuts to carry out
Before you carve the eyes and mouth.

And I let you take the hand of my clock
The way a bottle steers a drunk.
Let’s play a game, you say.
Let’s look in another window.
Let’s touch every other base
Before the one that counts.

You flatter me with arrogance
In your négligée of last-second saves
With your panting chest of wins.
I can make the train, you say.
I can pull out of any tailspin.
Tomorrow is a promise
And you will never die.