Time
How much time do you have?
Time, time!
You came too late.
Time
I wish I’d met you sooner.
Time again
How much?
I can’t come tomorrow.
A lot
A lot
Forever maybe –
Can I see you today?
Not much
Not much
Very little maybe –
I will love you always!
Less than an hour
Less than a minute
I’m gone already –
How much time do you have?
All of it
And none at all.
Museumusing
In my chest
My ribs once held a scroll of papyrus
Closed and sealed eons ago,
When Pharaoh sat on his throne of stone
In his palace of flesh
And watched the world with a god’s eye.
Today no one reads,
No one writes like we used to,
My ancient heart locked behind glass,
The blood dried and turned to gold
And I shimmer silently in dusty light.
Maybe I need new numbers,
Exotics formulas
Or awe-inspiring devices,
Tongues not spoken yet
And waves that pass through me
Feather-light, without tearing,
Or maybe generations will still
Gape at me, puzzle and wonder
What the raised veins spell
And I,
Unable to interpret myself,
Will wonder back, helplessly,
What do they see?
Before they turn and walk
To the next display.
About the Author: Amélie Garrido is a twenty-year-old poet from Switzerland. She writes in both French and English and her poems have been published in journals such as L’Épître, Cabaret, or Interpret Magazine (more coming soon). Although she is currently studying biology, she is passionate about anything creative or thoughtfully crafted, from science to literature to art.
