Returning Time

A sliver of moon
mocks blood
and tempts tide

I twist
clock hands back;
now it’s earlier

instead of later.
Time enough
to see clearly

errors without remedy,
fallen in burnished
shades of yellow and red

like sycamore leaves
the size of my feet
along a sidewalk.

They crunch
and break
beneath steps slowed

by a chill
in the desert
sunset that refracts

pollution
back on itself
and on me.

~LD

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