Bending Time

Where’d you learn to bend time like that?

You found the portal on instinct.

Our two mouths like black holes connecting,

Lips and teeth and tongue marking

The fissure where solid time turns liquid,

Where night stretches

In communion with parked cars,

Where street dogs gather their feast,

Where we gather our longing

And pass it back and forth,

Like the best ball game ever played,

Where your hands find what they demand,

Palms buried deep in my hair,

Where my eyes find what they seek,

Locked on yours, dazed and dopey,

Where you steal my breath,

And give me yours in exchange,

And we call it even.

Where’d you learn to bend time like that?

Here, in the hidden life of parking lots.

Jennifer R. Lloyd is a former journalist and longtime logophile. No longer churning words into newsprint on the daily, she sweats out the demons in South Texas or purges them onto the page. In her spare time, she accumulates college degrees and explores poetry and fiction.