J.B. Hogan’s most recent poem to appear here was “Not Four” (December 2019).

Hour Glass
By J.B. Hogan

Flipped at the beginning,
grains of sand pouring quickly, but
with reservoir full.
Despite the speed, emptying
slowly at first, collecting leisurely
on the bottom.
Filling now, same speed dropping, but
no concern, no fear of running out,
lots of empty space left.
One-third full, there’s plenty yet,
even at halfway, all still well,
much remaining, sand
spreading here and there,
equalizing, leveling out.
Then, suddenly it seems,
only one-third above,
two-thirds below—time
collapsing, speed intensified,
grains rushing down.
Drained at last,
reservoir empty,
all settled in the end,
at the bottom, and
no one or way to
flip it over,
ever begin again.