Anna Cates

Biological Clock

The river swells beside the café.
Waiting, a lone patron, shrouded 
in cinnamon scents, gives his date
five more minutes, checks, with a huff, 
his Goodwill watch, face scuffed
and loose along his wrist, notes 
the little hands have stopped 
moving, the tiny ticking ceased,
time standing still as the sun that day
over Gideon, giving Joshua victory. 
Timing her is now impossible.

A woman enters, sober as a wet cat, 
low lights and frizz from autumn drizzle, 
looking roughly like her picture, but older.
He lifts an index finger, minimal,
its excess typing tendonitis pain.

“My biological clock is ticking away,”
she whispers.  “I don’t want to be alone 
with a turkey baster when all
the lights go out…”

He nods, face flushed.  
She is here.  Time will receive her. 
Years later, he will admit that hour. 
He will write more poetry, despite the pain,
the sunshine, the rain, again and again,
feeding tributaries, refilling the river, 
and time will cycle, and time forgive.

wetlands...
the rattling cry
of a crane
flooding tomorrow
with yesterday

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About the Author

Anna Cates teaches online college writing and literature and graduate education.  She has published books (poetry, fiction, and drama) through cyberwit.net, prolificpress.com,  redmoonpress.com, and wipfandstock.com.  Her full-length poetry collection, Love in the Time of Covid, won an Illumination Book Award.  She resides in Wilmington, Ohio, with her beautiful kitty, Fifi. 

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