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“In Time’s Dominion” – Andre F. Peltier

In Time’s dominion, 
the longest day foreshortened. 
The darkest night 
with gold, platinum, 
full spectrum of the sun 
and moon. 
In Time’s dominion, 
the clocks are the kings,
the fools, 
the ones forsaken by trust 
and everlasting 
No more can the jester 
hear the falling of 
the cards. 
No more the milk maids 
hear the braying of 
the calves. 
Touching intergalactic waterways 
from Island Park to Outer Mongolia, 
from Argo Livery 
to Amalthea. 
To infinity and beyond, 
Oberon spills and sinks 
to the endless bottom of 
Huron muck. 
In Time’s dominion, 
we watched the swans suck 
from the rocky riverbed of 
In Time’s dominion, 
we all stood stock still. 
We stood towards the never-ending 
mythos of happiness and calm. 
We all looked longingly 
into the outer reaches 
but were pulled back. 
In Time’s dominion, 
strange fruit hang low 
upon the branches of history 
and we write her song again. 
It’s never too late 
at the speed of sound; 
it’s never too late to pause 
a moment for new 
and outrageous weirdness. 
The crown sits heavy 
on his head 
as Time casts a glance 
back to yesterday’s 
dark and unforgiving wilderness. 
Back to the whisper of 
rolling thunder 
beyond the cries of 
rolling hills. 
The crown sits heavy 
in Time’s dominion 
but never falters. 

In Time’s dark dungeon, 
we sit and stew 
and the bitter world rolls on. 
Christ in the parking lot 
with flowers in his hair. 
“I haven’t eaten fish in months,” 
confessed the poor boy. 
Christ in the French Toast 
with syrup as his eyes. 
“I haven’t turned water 
into wine; 
I never ate the body,” 
the poor boy of Muskegon 
cried from his dungeon cell. 
In Time’s dark dungeon, 
he faced the void; 
he stared into the void 
and trembled in fear. 
In Time’s dark dungeon, 
we sat up all night, 
sleepless and wide awake, 
listening to the bass bomb 
our hearts and souls. 
Sleepless and wide awake, 
we read Oscar Wilde 
in the pitch-black corners 
and saw the return 
of the art of lying. 
In Time’s dark dungeon, 
we ate our bread and water. 
In Time’s dark dungeon, 
the void found the truth.

Five hundred mating hawks 
blocking out the sun. 
They’ll either make it 
stand stock still 
or else they’ll make it 

Who among you has bathed 
in Time’s dominion? 
Who has walked their final steps 
in Time’s dominion? 
The bell tower casts long shadows 
over pubs and boutiques, 
restaurants and coffee shops. 
Café on State St. at one AM, 
we watched the acid crazy 
schizophrenic run 
in circles as police tried to 
subdue and conquer.  
Who among you has 
run in circles? 
Who among you 
has been conquered?
Who among you 
has walked with 
sweet daughter Irony 
through the nightfall of 
Through the diamond glitter of 

In Time’s dominion, 
Lucien Febvre sat under 
Lorraine beech trees, 
Lorraine oaks. 
In Parc de la Pépinière, 
Febvre sat 
in Time’s dominion. 

In Time’s drawing room, 
we drink our brandy 
and smoke our cigars. 
We clip the ends of our cigars 
and dream.  
In Time’s drawing room, 
we played charades and whist. 
We danced waltzes and foxtrots 
in Time’s drawing room 
before settling in 
to a heavenly game of similes. 
“As tight as a….” 
Ah yes, 
in Time’s drawing room, 
the Ghost of Columbus Day Present 
and the Ghost of Columbus Day Yet to Come 
shared their inner most desires. 
“As quiet as a…” 
squawked The Ghost of Columbus Day Past. 
From Time’s drawing room 
we adjourned to the sidewalk and admired the daisies, 
the yarrow, the Sweet William. 
From Time’s drawing room 
we adjourned to the diners
for coffee and potatoes

About the Author:

Andre F. Peltier (he/him) is a Pushcart Nominee and a Lecturer III at Eastern Michigan University where he teaches literature and writing. He lives in Ypsilanti, MI, with his wife and children. His poetry has recently appeared in various publications like CP Quarterly, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Provenance Journal, Lavender and Lime Review, About Place, Novus Review, Fiery Scribe, and Fahmidan Journal, and most recently in Magpie Literary Journal, Cajun Mutt Press, and Idle Ink. In his free time, he obsesses over soccer and comic books.

Twitter: @aandrefpeltier


This piece is part of Issue Two: CHRONOS. Read more like it here.

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