Bundling time away

On the balcony ,now seeing into rain
We will like to bundle our time away
As some street dogs of multiplication
Cry in their vowels, the upward snouts
Long addressed to a time's awakening
And we gather it up in a piece cloth.

A rag we may call it ,such as we use
In those times common to our women
In a few maps, of blood clots, tissue
Of a gender curse, of children unborn
Of tireless efforts to make them born.

We now put our time away to forget it
On the wall peg, in a needless honour
Of a timeless body, a claypot hanging
With holes of light pouring like rain.

(Bundling time away is W.B.Yeats in his poem "That the night come")

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