As Old As Time; Minus Twelve; Bathroom Breaks by Sabrina Vellani

Minus Twelve

here life breathes the ice storms

and the frozen foot soles

the undersalted sidewalks

and the people who burrow inside

but then you and i keep standing

buried in snow and evaporating breath

warm and felt by our own mittens

the cunning winter retreats

As Old as Time

The clock hands orchestrate

the change in us all,

like a conductor waving his

baton and the adolescence

in me becoming frail and old.

Part of growing is the sound

of the symphony at your ears

leaving a crescendo swiftly:

time runs cold like a trombone

case closing after the band plays.

The music ticks gone and silent,

but what a timeless concert.

Bathroom Breaks

I’ve seen you in November,

inside of a blood-red washroom stall,

etching prose in the paint

with your kilt pin hoping they aren’t

asking after you as time flickers.

It tells me you sow Love

and sacred Protection even as seedling.

Even when the bell blares.

Even when black kajal prays hidden

underneath soil and fingertips.