At Sunset Mother Speaks by Mario Duarte

At Sunset Mother Speaks

Of many things but

Mostly of the dead.

How their eyes are

Open now. Finally.

That they view time

As one long take.

They never reverse,

Stop, or start over. No.

She says the living are

More dead than the dead.

Perhaps because we

Live the flaws of today—

Feel how even love

Is not a petal of light

But more a sharp rock

Tender underfoot.

When my eyelids ripple

With dream why not

Ask her what it feels like,

And if it all still hurts.