Awaiting the hour, paid by the rate,
Wrestling with time,
Dilating the moment,
The cars go by and tires dissipate
The rubber.
We wait for a monument
That liberates our father, who’ll berate
The waste of years and days, and to lament
The broken hearts of stone in hope to sate
Hunger.
Or for worth, perhaps.
Fall, cement,
And center this world of things: Satiate
The needs of men, before time leaves all rent.

Shuweikh,
March, 2023.