Time Hunter

Being late is mindless. Imagine

waking to a mindless dawn

that slept in, or if the moon,

discombobulated, washed

your breakfast with blue. It follows

therefore that punctuality

is mindful. And I wish

to be mindful. A watch on my wrist,

a phone in my pocket buzz

reminders if I turn up the sound.

*

But time-blindness is a keyless handcuff.

My brain is still learning, yearning

to mistress time and wrap

all its stitches through the blankets

of diary entries, weighted by shame

of a prefrontal cortex too overcrowded

to court clocks. Yet still I persist. As if

to catch-up with minutes, will ease

the pain of stillness. If I abandoned time,

it would surely haunt me. Although

*

I could consent to push against it,

without reprise, to sculpt an identity,

wear it like a christening gown,

rather than adopt mass-produced

crowd pleasers watching, waiting

for me to fail. If I’m honest,

*

I love the feeling of bending,

not chasing time like a hunter.

I stop running and glance back

to watch a waterfall of time cascading

towards me. At first I freeze,

then, I open my arms.

*****

Thank you for spending a moment with my words. If you like the way I play with letters from the alphabet, I would be honoured to have you as my guest, on my profile, where you can read whatever takes your fancy.

Teresa Renton has a first-class degree in English Linguistics and Language Creativity. Her work has previously been published or is forthcoming in Good Printed Things ‘Food Memories’ Poetry Anthology, Ink in Thirds, Flash Fiction Magazine, 101 Words, and elsewhere. She has recently been a finalist in Women on Writing's Autumn '25 flash fiction competition.

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