5 minutes to death
the sun sets early
an afternoon of a wintery day
a dark night descends
it’s 5 minutes to death
clear the dinner table
wash the dishes
put them away
check my computer
for the latest reports
a wailing saxophone
seeps through shut windows
across the street
few lonely people sit around tables
scattered on sidewalk
faint memories
pain of recollections
like a phantom limb
like a mirage
i long for all that is no longer
it’s raining
pavements are wet.
streets are dark
another day
to remain within walls
hunker down in front
of my computer
procrastinate
it’s 5 minutes to death
i’m still here
On Time
perhaps it is an exaggeration
to say that time is my nemesis
but as I think about it
it’s definitely not my friend
at best it is self-sufficient
comes and goes
independent of me
never asks permission
wait a minute
I call it
wait a minute…
years ago
I scoffed at time
had it in abundance
now left
with scattered crumbs
of leftover moments
I crave it
wait a minute…
I call it
but time progresses
dates too, arrive
they always do
dates to celebrate
dates to remember
dates on my calendar
dates in my diary
birthdays
holidays
always arrive
without consent
… autonomous
as time vanishes
and existence fade
I’m left with vestiges
of moments past
day in day out
time moves steadily
a minute in
a minute out
hours
minutes
seconds
a whole life span
Bio: Tova Beck-Friedman is a visual artist, filmmaker, writer and poet. In recent work she fuses poetry and moving images to create cine-poems. Her work has been shown internationally in film festivals, museums, galleries and on television. http://tbfstudio.com @tbfstudio https://www.facebook.com/tova.beckfriedman https://www.instagram.com/tbfstudio/
Fevers of the Mind 