Flicker Harvest

Claudia Harris

Flicker harvest of the evening fade swarms me,
as I try to time flex before it’s gone.

Now the tulip watch is nearing
and the sly sleep from driftwood magic won’t be able to save me.

The quaint daisy slipper that keeps me here falls loose around my feet,
now the cool tiled mermaid truth is running under me.

This time pandemic is crushing, as I run swift for the starry ocean.

Each and every wandering tap I take reminds me that the watch is coming,
and the ocean screech grows louder as I grow closer.

Surely I will be a harvest prisoner if I do not make it.