A lifetime in the swing
by georgia-marginson-swart
I am a clock that clears its throat and repeats itself
Always stuck on the same sentence
Never able to contribute more to a conversation than a dull click
Over and over, setting teeth to grinding.
I am the clenched fist, too,
All the bones and muscles smiling at each other
Curling up against their lovers
And holding anger inside of them
Like a tongue between teeth
A chime caught midway
I am the midnight hour that echoes inside of itself
The way the impact of fist against mouth
Echoes through eternity
On the hour
Every hour
Repeated
A metronome of rage