You were my time piece,
one hand on my shoulder, the other
rooting around
in my shirt. Even half asleep
your third eye was always on the clock.
A year in, you're still a stickler:
just enough time to shower, just enough
to eat so I can feed
you again: Tick
tock, mummy. Tick tock.
2 comments:
Hey Ariel, I like you with punctuation. I like the circular feel, like a minute has clocked itself around--although I think the ending may be a bit too cute?
Yah, I mostly agree with you (though the thought of cute, especially in a poem on this topic, makes me gnash my teeth...) but couldn't think of another way to end the poem.
(FYI this pome was originally a stanza smack dab in the middle of eleven but didn't seem to fit there...)
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