clocks

I stared at the clock
as he laid beside me
and talked about mother
the electric blanket
exaperating against my back
and the bubble gum pink
reminding me of other times
when I had rougher ways
and a stronger smile
reminding me of other times
when even grandmother didn't seem so dreadful once

I stare at the clock.

It was fascinating to watch life tick by
I've always been impressed by the precision of a second

"Why have you been so silent?" he asks

it is a terribly difficult question that I cannot answer.

I stare at the clock.
it's works are so exact
the way you wish life could be
with one second mounting the other
we grow old
but its arms return to 12 always
always returning time, always returning time.
and you cannot imagine how exhilirating
the entire cycle becomes when
one arm reaches for 12 and the other 6
and all you see is one long black line
drawn from one end of the circle to the other
it is a divine moment
when opposites meet
and coincide in time.
the way things weren't with mother.