by Sergio Ortiz

when August is about to end,

I think about the leaves that incessantly fall

from calendars. I believe I am the tree of calendars.

Every passing day, leaves me wondering

if the one who loses a father is an orphan,

if a man who loses his wife is widower,

what name do we give the loser?

What do we call an idler of time?

And if I myself am time,

what shall I name myself,

if I lose myself?

Day and night, not Monday or Tuesday,

or August or September. Day and night

are the measure of how long we last.

To open and close our eyes is to last.

At this hour, every night, forever,

I am the one who lost the day.

Sergio A. Ortiz is a gay Puerto Rican poet and the founding editor of Undertow Tanka Review. He is a two-time Pushcart nominee, a four-time Best of the Web nominee, and a 2016 Best of the Net nominee. He is currently working on his first full length collection of poems, Elephant Graveyard.