NaPowrimo Day 6

 

A broken clock speaks

 

You assume that I want to measure time,

or treasure time. I was just crafted that way;

faced and handed in a poor approximation of the human-

when I stopped, it was a calm. These cogs no longer

nipping with young teeth, the tiny ruby

captive in the workings.

 

Listen to me, I am half the making of a bomb,

the most important part, the rationale of time,

the tick tick ticking.

I am happy quiet, like this, am happy stilled

in the hanging air of endless afternoons,

I dream in dust.

 

I find I do not care for the consolation

of being right once, twice- the old bores’ answer.

There’s no revelation; just a flag waved

in the circumnavigation of nothing.

And if you look at my face, morning or evening,

I give nothing away.

 

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