On mobile, click on the print version for exact spacing of lines.
THE CLOCK | Kristen Anderson
Note: The Alzheimer’s Clock-Drawing Test is a classic way to evaluate the state of cognitive decline.
The numbers cramp together,
A crumple of memories huddled at the beginning,
When we rode bicycles through the suburbs--
I winding road, II sisters pedaling,
III made a ruckus as the neighbour’s dog snapped at our tires,
His tail beating in a frenzy, peals of laughter as we lifted into the air.
IV wings catching the sunlight,
Lungs fit to burst, legs aching with the steady churning,
Cycling second into second
Until the wheels turned
So fast that we
Lost control
And collapsed
Together, there, under an oak tree.
We whispered of who we would marry;
VI children, no V
Their names shifting and murmuring, rustling in the leaves.
My sister smells of grass and dandelions, skinned knees and sunscreen.
VIII, she was VIII, X, IX?
Her face hidden like stars beneath a film of haze,
The sky eats flickering gaps in the canopy,
Devouring veined edges.
My hand pauses, a tremor passing through as memory trembles
Towards my fingertips then
Fades--
Losing its shape in the scatter of
Seconds,
Days,
Years,
Until all that lingers is the scent of sunscreen.
There’s a great hollow on the page
Something lost,
Slipping away into a vast span of
emptiness.
A crumple of time muddled and crawling ever onwards towards the blue
Or perhaps the blue is spreading backwards,
Compressing the numbers together until they disappear into the beginning.
I winding road, II sisters pedaling, III made a ruckus
I winding road, II sisters pedaling
I winding road
Lifting off into the azure.
Kristen Anderson is a 2nd-year medical student at McMaster University who is currently enjoying the waterfalls in Ontario, Canada. She has a B.S. in Computer Science from Stanford University. Anderson is passionate about literature and hopes to combine her love for reading with her medical pursuits.