How To Stop Time

How To Stop Time

Stop trying. Put away your phone. Forget
about the moment you realized, aged seven
on a Friday afternoon, that you could never
hold off the bright, cold noon on Saturday

or your parents' long, terrible fight after
Sunday night supper, and how that meant
you'd wake up alone forever, even if you
went to sleep-away camp, even if you got

married. Borrow your thoughts just before
then. You'd walked the whole tall hill past
the ruined estate, brown burrs stuck to your
corduroy slacks, stumbling on winter-bared

raspberry bushes, your navy blue pea coat
daringly untoggled. All so you could see
the far-off river, the town where everyone
you knew lived. You were breathing hard,

half-frozen, happy. It had taken you forever
to climb up there, the sun's angle sinking
as you hiked. Forever! Remember the long
effort of that ascent. You have lost nothing.