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Time In A Bottle

written by: Arlene Antoinette

 

She smiles and for a moment I think
the joy on her face is for me.

I am known again. I am cherished again.
I am loved. In a tick of a heartbeat,

her smile is erased leaving in its wake
a blank stare. Empty eyes now a window

to a troubled soul. She’s lost to me.
If I had the power, I would hold time still.

Better yet, I would rewind time and restore
her strength, youth and memory. But time

does not stand still. Time can’t be stored
away or held securely in a bottle; it flows

out in one direction. Forward. Always, forward.
I remind her that I’m her fourth grandchild: the chubby

dimpled girl with knobby knees. She’s engaged
in my tale, but it doesn’t touch her heart. It doesn’t

ignite the flame of memory I’m hoping for. I am still
a nobody; an annoying visitor trying to force a smile

on the face of a woman who thinks that I am a stranger.
At the end of each visit, I leave more broken than the

last time. And she, the grandmother whom I love, continue
to stare at me with those vacant questioning eyes.

Arlene Antoinette

Arlene Antoinette

Arlene Antoinette is a poet of West Indian birth who grew up in Brooklyn, New York. She graduated from Brooklyn College and worked as an instructor with disabled individuals for many years. You may find additional work by Arlene at Foxglove Journal, Little Rose Magazine, I am not a silent Poet, Tuck Magazine, The Feminine Collective, The Open Mouse, Amaryllis Poetry, Boston Accent Lit, Sick Lit Magazine, Postcard Shorts, 50 Word Stories, The Ginger Collect, Neologism Poetry Journal and Your Daily Poem.
Arlene Antoinette

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