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A poem from Helen Townsend

Dusting Antiques the Day We Buried You
by Helen Townsend

          “Death is the opposite of time.” --Deng Ming-Dao

I wish
instead of laying you in a hole
we could tuck you into this
tall-as-a-man, weight-driven
German-designed clock.

Eight copper alloy layers
like a cake reserved for grand events
the middle tiers hold silver doors and dancers
enter, exit, twirl on the hour, each like a moon
flung around a single, familied earth.

If I knew alchemy
I could haul you from that pine bed
cast you to handheld size, tune you
to metal clockwork, watch you keep
the time as you go on defying it.

Bio: Helen Townsend lives in Indianapolis. “One of my favorite things is sitting down to write or revise, and when I look at the clock, hours have gone by. Everyone who writes or makes art or has a great conversation has experienced that. It feels like a glimpse of eternity.”