The Stopping of Time

I’ve stopped the cornrows from tasseling in the field.

I gave the child playful youth way beyond her years.

The old man sits where he has been since I met him;

not even death can reach him where he is.

Flowers are in bloom not for days or weeks but for

decades. The clouds haven’t moved an inch in the

sky, and it has been daylight all year round. Nothing,

neither wind nor rain has dared disturb the ground.

And the tree has hung onto its last leaf permanently.

Lovers hold their embrace, parting in such a state is

virtually impossible. It is consistency without a break.

How was that airplane suspended in mid-flight?

Is this some sort of hocus-pocus, black magic performed?

I see you when I choose, and without the batting of an eye.

I hold these fading photographs I have taken (a frozen his-

tory of life) in these aging hands of mine.

Chris Hanch  10-16-15