Slip
here’s my birthday sandglass
white grains, gravity
Cassie’s gift and I tease
time in a bottle
when I watch sand moving downward
Sappho’s gossipy lines slip through
between my ideas -- the finest sight:
whatever one loves is
I don’t read Greek, but would
kiss the fingertips of translators
if I could
history shifts
sifts
one grain slips through
then another
