Afternoon

This is a complete afternoon:
a thousand shards of solitude.
I count
I match
I shape
I join.
These are my naked hands
on a naked, sad table.
I try to hold this instant,
this completely desiccated fragment of time.
My eyes are blank wide open.
I sense the harsh madman touch
of solitude.
A crazed lonely white sun
is hanging
in the white sky.

AFTERNOON