#Poetry #Spokane A Clock’s Work

A Clock’s Work

 

With each abrupt little snap of the second hand

The screw twists deeper, then deeper again

Into soft, fleshy, nerve filled tissue

Tic

Now, sinks into muscle and sinew

And bursts a hidden life sustaining vein

Tic

Scrapes the bone and then cracks home

Leaving fine, white dust like a broken china bowl

Tic

Tic

The screw twists

Plunging painfully into dark, soft marrow

Wreaking havoc on her soul

Tic

Tic

And then

Toc

Each moment brings fresh misery

Each second she’s alone

She watches and lives by

Yet curses the clock

And prays for his voice on the phone

 

 

Posted on October 31, 2014, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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