At dawn
The cold steel blade of time
Falls once again across my brow
And as its golden compromise
Surrenders to my will
(Your heart is gold, O time,
Your knife a scabbard dusted with the stars)
I’m up and doing
Signing with ephemeral pencil
Body hours and rest away —
So subtly in the wheel of hours
Time gets his knife between my ribs …
What is my body underneath the sheet at night,
My eyes, my hair:
The digits in a sum
Time handles, cuts,
And parcels out to men.
(Isobel Stone)
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Based on Topics: Man Poems, Night Poems, Time Poems, Gold Poems, Hair PoemsBased on Keywords: signing, surrenders, dusted, digits