Three Times

Far and Vague,
             a rainbow-gilt sanctuary:
             imagined future land
             where in I dare not stand out
             lest this quarter hundred year's yearning
             collapse in mire
             squeaming    constipated    regret.

Here and clear,
             kitchen solarium:
             vacant Saturday
             where wrinkles of light glance past
             cresting, ebbing, sharpening, blurring
             fading to drab
             swallowing    interlude    whole.

Dim and fleet,
             suspended orchids, tented congregations:
             memory scraps
             where quavering embarrassment carved notches,
             scarred stones marking miles
             mostly unremembered
             but    spurring    still.