Falling Back

Time changed without incident in the hospital where everyone worked an extra hour, and anyone born then would be perpetually confused or late all the time, and anyone who died and quietly lay in a room, still waiting for love, still, wheeled down the hall with the photographs on the walls, several of her smiling with a child, or looking intense because her life was falling apart, yet she looked good in her black jeans, not sure what she is wearing now, she went out in a large black plastic bag, hiding all of her continuing to leave through the door, continuing to become time: the seconds, minutes, hours days years, but who’s counting, who knows.