Breaking the Brass Hourglass

by Cassandra Caverhill

Brea and I were warned that the antique wasn’t a toy. But it was kept on a reachable ledge by the basement stairs. With sweaty hands, we’d turn the hourglass over to let a bit of egg-shell sand escape through the narrowest glass, to put a few seconds back on the clock. We’d set it upside down and watch the grains fall, while we waited on the third step of the brown carpeted stairs. The bomb’s going to blow! we’d shout, before launching ourselves into the air, arms extended in flight. And as we crashed down, a million eons scattered into the soil of carpet fibers.

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Cassandra Caverhill is a Canadian-American poet, editor, and creative writing instructor. She’s the author of Mayflies (Finishing Line Press, 2020) and her prose and poetry have appeared internationally in journals across the US, Canada, and UK. A karaoke and cycling enthusiast, Cassandra lives in the borderlands of Windsor, Ontario. More here.