Clock

Clock! You sculpt the clay of my life With your rigid hands, Shouting your high commands through morning alarms. Accusations fly As you collect your daily payment of attention. When I find myself savoring life’s sweetness, You sprint behind my back. And when pain drops my heart from my chest, You linger, rubbernecking from the wall. You enclose the whole of my life In that circular frame, Ever spinning in your infinite math, Drunk with power! Clock! I can take no more of your tyranny! I can afford no more of your triple A battery lunches- I am afraid you’ve run out of time. So keep your hands out of my business, I’m sleeping in today. Jacob Reinhardt 09/05/2013