Daylight Saved

Hidden Vault
1. Spring ForwardThe government’s at it again, tampering time and we must stagger behind, wishing Salvador Dali minutes would lag instead of broad-jump.April, the month of taxes and poetry. Lighttrails us like a street urchin dragging his bags. We are thanked for our gifts to government with jet-lag and loss of easeful dark, pumped with big-top minutes and forward-swapped. But where do they keep the acrobat hour? I find in my purse only shadows and stars.
2. Stashed I imagine that Congress stashes that saved hour           in a teak box with mother-of-pearl stars and blue satin lining. Or a big penny jar shaped like a trumpeting elephant, the lock in his upraised trunk. But too many of us have a key, for every fall we find it looted and empty as the bank for sale I once saw. The silver-hinged vault lay open for deposits of dust. Ghost hours danced in that twilight mouth. I can't put my overtime in anything so wide or keep my worries in such an open box.
3. Fall Back When skeletons dance and red devil leaves seesaw, the clock spins backwards. Spring forward, fall back, I repeat to timepieces whose hands I wring. The powers-that-save loose a phantom hour to imp my dreams. Afternoons are still-life, a hummingbird’s whirring immobility. I see now why we must hoard every spark against twilight's snip-end, against the dark dot of a question mark.