you think time stops because you figure something out
like how your ex bf sings for tiny women & since you’re tall
his love for you was never true
despite what he swore, through crocodile tears, as he
pinned you to the wall
or later, at the window with a wide-eyed baby in your arms,
the city’s midnight bones tease the idea . . . men build everything you see—
phone poles, streets, lights, bridges, because you—women—do this,
this child
& that these revelations stop time
insight only hits the pause button, then you go on wondering what’s going to happen next
a bright light in a sky of others
needing a pattern only you can see
Photo by Eric Nopanen on Unsplash
