I number the days I have with you
as if that would slow the rotation of the earth
or give us one more heartbeat together,
when we were young
my eyes glimmered with we will live forever
now
I know different
so I pound each piton-number
with hickory handled sledgehammer
swinging mightily
with grunt and groan and flying sweat
drive them into rock
dig my fingernails at their edges
white knuckled clutch of the solid fix
and speak to you as plainly as I can
all the things I would want to say
when the numbers are no more.
-Stan A. Baldwin-