Poetry · Writing


She watched the clock night and night again waiting for a time

a time that clock skipped.

cuckoo cuckoo

she skipped through locked doors and gated communities

sirens chased, dogs barked, children cried.

Whistling old man cursed as she ran through his lawn and picked up the phone.

Grasped it in her hand, watching the bird retreat to its nest.


Crying(not alone) breath on the other end.

The absence of dial tone speaks louder then then voice.

Anticipation breaks through her skin like Alien on a ship.

The clocks song ends, and skips, quiet breath and a silent sob.

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