The Measure of a Minute

I borrow this moment,
not the mark on the face
of the clock, but the memory
of it. It has started and will end
and the next one will begin,
but it is this one that I want.

The one where no thunder
is booming, no tv is on
to speak of the unending guns.
I can’t think of anything noteworthy
except that every minute is unique.
I choose to keep this one, this memory

because there will never be
another  like it.

2 thoughts on “The Measure of a Minute

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