It is Time
by Peycho Kanev

Time is moving and soon will arrive 
at its funeral.
Where did the future days go?
The calendars ignite and burn
in the past.
All the clocks, that insult to infinity,
stop at the same second. 
Black clouds crawl upon the white sky.
I lie on the grass with my mouth open. 
All the cupbearers are already dead and drinking
with the gods.
The women, with their warm bodies smelling
of life, came too late.
I'm small and I'm getting smaller.
I end up hiding under a blade of grass,
again with my mouth open, and I wait for the rain.
In the distance, a black cloud appears again.
A raven rubs its beak in the dust.

—
Peycho Kanev is the author of 8 poetry collections and three chapbooks, published in the USA and Europe. His poems have appeared in many literary magazines, such as: Rattle, Poetry Quarterly, Evergreen Review, Front Porch Review, Hawaii Review, Barrow Street, Sheepshead Review, Off the Coast, The Adirondack Review and many others. His new chapbook titled Under Half-Empty Heaven was published in 2019 by Grey Book Press.