In between moments

Hmm... "in between moments" sounds like a good poem title doesn't it? Well that's not the title of this poem. I have some poems I'm working on  but while waiting (in between moments) I present one of my favorite poems of mine. Normally I format it with more interesting spacing, but I haven't found a way to do that well on blogger. Even so, enjoy!

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Layers of a Moment 

The back door hangs open;
the front door clicks shut.

The mother stands past the doorway.
She thinks briefly of him, of them, of how they will be,
as she carries a bag full of lettuce,
beets,
and onions,
whose layers are breaking, beginning to slide inside,
And then of dinner and evening obligations.

The father sleeps on the couch.
His mind twirls with what never was,
is,
or will be,
The wind blows in from a nearby window,
lifting a page from the open book on his lap.
That page is always on the verge of turning.

The brother sitting on the carpet imagines an adventure,
in one hand a red truck,
in the other, a blue plane.
A story at dawn in the desert
where the dunes
are slipping away
and neither can see through the sandstorm.
It’s sad, but they must collide.

The sister in the mirror has left the faucet running.
Her washcloth is wet with dabbing her eyes.
Yesterday is tugging at her hair:
a comb caught in the knots of memory,
leaving behind
the tangled strands of youth.
A fresh breath is slow in coming.

And no one notices the clock stuck on the wall
or hears the definite tick of the second hand.
The mother calls out to all the family.
The father awakes as his page falls back in place.
There is a crash of toys and a gasp of surprise.
The moment runs though the back door.