Around the Clock

Have you ever watched water

walk around a clock dial
spacing itself out by the beating of your heart,

content. Invective-laced.

I try to be that water,
another poor example of grace under perpetual

motion. Locked door eyes don’t really
mean I’m closed for business,

devoid. Deviant. Sometimes the watershed
won’t burst, the dam grows legs

and runs down the street
screaming at the top of its lungs

be quiet. Shhh. Silence is golden

keep you bullshit swept under the rug.

That goes for you too, sentiment.


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