Jadedness
All too common
Conscious counting
Of the clock—
How many breaks per second—
Of my heart in glass;
Red spattered on arrows
Turning, clicking—
(at me)
A rattled time
An unregognizable face
(it shakes hands— the last
heat in my frosted veins' touch)
It twists numbers out of me;
Found out; bosom heavy breathing
with the figuring.
(How deep is the thick of me)
Its chain only squeezes out
every good living real—
(palms backward still)
Fingerprints on time's nerves,
Goes without.
It's me it makes—
It's you that watch.
Copyright © Paige Hind | Year Posted 2023
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