Time Change in Florida

by Nonnie Augustine

Used to be I'd keep busy. Dreadful 

the time I spend sitting, standing,

staring. I lose track, now.

I believe it's because he died.

It gets hold of me.

I'll see him half on half off his bed,

a plaid blanket angled over his back and legs,

held tight in his gray fist. I might stop to think

about his being cold on an August Sunday

or I guess Saturday because he'd been dead a day

before I found him.

Time slides by while I rock or sway a bit.

Think about things.

Wonder if I'll stay slow like this?

Feels like it.