Tuesday in Torino

It broke and with it
things do and then we mend
time kneels before the needy
and if
the clock turns slowly on the hour
we stay broken,

insights into the faraway
looks that stay as scars fade and
beds made to be undressed in
hot flushes
everything rushes by so fast
the moments never last
the past drags us down,

if we’re really lucky we disconnect
don’t feel the pain
even when it happens again and again

I’m hanging on and only to see where
it all went wrong,
where I broke in two
these are the things we do
we don’t know.

© 2018, John Smallshaw.