She broke the Rule of 3
by having 2 kids,
looked both ways
before crossing a one-way street,
& never listened to her gut—
it didn’t like pizza—
& who could trust something
She showed her husband
that rule makers
taught her kids
to never trust drivers
in a world
where cell phones & cars
& told anyone who’d listen
that guts over 35 inches
didn’t know what
they were talking about.
Calendar took life one day at a time,
whereas Clock lived in the moment.
When they crossed paths
at a Timekeeper’s Conference,
they saw the value in their vocations,
for she was responsible for a person’s D.O.B.,
he, their T.O.D.
She saw the faces of angels in the clouds,
of family members in the wood grains of her cedar chest,
& secret messages meant for her in the books
that had been given her by friends—
all watching her & warning her,
so that she never felt alone or lived without certainty.
Some say she suffered from paranoia,
from mere pareidolia,
but she would say that she lived in a world
that spoke to her personally,
surrounded by the divine & the dead & the little things others missed
because they didn’t know how to read between the lines.
In this world, she felt the peace that had eluded her as a child—
before she’d been touched by an angel,
before she’d found her birth parents in the cemetery,
& before books had opened her imagination to the possibility
that all things were possible.