The Clock [Poem]

The Clock

This one has a soft spot in me…

The Clock

Taken back to
“Will you?”
Brings up the question of clocks
In a casino like snow-leopards on
The wall, they are counted by name.

Nervously look up at the blank
Space I wish was filled with
Black on white.
The red hand comes around
And your eyes are as uncomfortable
As open heart surgery.
If you break our sound barrier,
I won’t be able to finish
My king’s speech to write a closing letter.

Brought forward to
“Can we please?”
Brings up the question of
Self-hypnosis, of monsters.
The discomfort of continuing
Brings around the red hand again.
A split second of blame and
All I want to do is go home.

I’ve overstayed my visit
And it’s time to move to the
The black hand will be next.

Leaving the concrete enclosure
Will be good for me.
I honestly hope you
Don’t stay and become lost.

Accompanying song:

The Clock [Poem]