Time
Chasing its tail.
Relieving its self on the back of a hand.
Wrinkling over like a shirt not left to iron.
Time
Wedging its way
Across borders
Unmade.
And wrangling around in classrooms full of hungry students.
I thought I could bring it back
The time
I stood apart from.
I thought I could hold it--
Not let it slip between my fingers.
It cornered me like a rather defensive bully.
Strangling me with hands of unbelievable intensity
Derived from the notion that
Time
thinks it rules all.
So I struggle
To name this clock face.
Because I cannot perceive it as so.
And only I know
By now
That time
Is meant
to be wasted.
-s.l
YOU ARE READING
Inside a Clockface
PoetryA poem that took me to a very unique place about time beating out reality because of its crucial importance to the world.
