grains raze if i push you down the stairs to prove a point, he says, you might land on your back, your eyes wide sand scattering to focus on a fixed point beyond the scope of my vision. all the melanin swimming in your irises could strip me for parts without ever holding me in its sway. try it, she says. see if you don't fall first. 211118 ... tender_square brass hourglass of egg-shell sand. brea and i were warned the antique wasn’t a toy, but it was kept on a reachable open ledge by the stairs to the basement. with our sweaty hands absorbing the scent of metal, we’d turn it over to let a bit of time escape through the narrowest glass, to put a few seconds on the clock. we’d set it up and watch the grains fall, waiting on the third step of the brown carpeted stairs. “the bomb is going to blow!” we’d shout. launching ourselves into the air, our arms extended as in flight. and when we eventually broke the hourglass we weren’t supposed to touch, a million eons scattered into the soil of carpet fibers waiting to be born. 211119 what's it to you? who go blather from