Judith Skillman
Time as Infection
Past and future beckon forward, backward,
take the gray dust of years, plow it under.
Before bed you become old. While downstairs
it could be yesterday, upstairs, flights become
tomorrow. Nowhere does the now flourish.
The present’s undernourished—a runt coyote,
a spindly animal too young to count,
too yellow not to fear. Hunger in those
red eyes, the glint of an inhuman hide
poised to take what it needs, just as you did.
For that you’ve suffered. Galileo, forced
into house arrest, said sotto voce,
Nonetheless, the earth moves around the sun.
When did history
become your life?
Judith Skillman is the author of Came Home to Winter (Deerbrook Editions, 2019) and 15 other poetry collections. She has received grants from Artist Trust and the Academy of American Poets. Her poems have appeared in Poetry, Cimarron Review, Zyzzyva, We Refugees, and elsewhere. Visit judithskillman.com.
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