October 22nd, 2025
Theodor Horydczak Collection, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division.
REAL TIME
The May we graduated
I slept on a beach house floor
with twelve friends
since the rest had real boyfriends
and slept with them
Miranda & I
had no boyfriends
but we had Bacardi
then she left to work
for a travel agency
on the South Pole
she spoke
to everyone
I got strep
& slept
through commencement
then the years slipped through
and around each other
finding themselves
in a codependent entanglement
like love,
only closer, and free
of any sexual charge
— it was not what I expected
of time:
not the slippage
between lovers
and their doubles
not my wants
flaming out
then returning
in new shapes
not seeing
that when I baldly wanted love
I had it:
in every dream
I took my twelve friends
into the dream
with me
we ran through houses
where every turn revealed
a new room
I’d heard people talk
of time
like disembarking
from one boat
onto another
first, you arrive
golden hour
into morning,
hair damp.
Rachel Stone is a fact checker at New York Magazine, and a recent graduate of NYU's poetry MFA program. Her work can be found on The New Republic, The Brooklyn Rail, BOMB Magazine, and elsewhere.