The Cathedral of Time
Michael Minassian
When my uncle died,
my aunt smashed
all the clocks in the house,
unplugged the TV
& her telephone,
hung mirrors on every wall.
In case he comes back,
she whispered,
I want to see him first.
When I offered to drive
her to the cathedral,
she handed me the keys:
keep your foot on the gas,
she cried, I don’t want to be late.
At the service,
the priest talked
about resurrection,
& families re-uniting—
a brief window into eternity.
I walked away
scattering broken
pieces of clocks,
like rice at a wedding
of time and death.