I wake up
to find
that time
has taken
yet another hour
and flushed it down
the toilet bowl
of my soiled mind.

They call it
Daylight Savings Time.

But I wonder
if I
could take back
that erased hour
and place it in my pocket,
with all the other shit
I’ve saved — little secrets
I’m unwilling to admit.

Could they work together
to create, a fiction
to explain
your love, my love, our love(s) erased,
replaced in picture frame.
And throw them up, unrecognized
into the evening sky.

Where there is loss, there too is light
like Daylight Savings Time.