second hand pushes up
the weight of minutes,
in turn lifting hours

it struggles climbing
from seven to eight
slipping back a bit

by nine it trembles
but inserts itself
notch by notch

the last fifteen seconds
are desperations of
loud ticks

and when the twelve is
reached, it brief rest
is pushed overtime—

plunging straight down
to the six again,
loosely swinging.

the minute felt a slight
nudge forward, but the
hour paid little attention...



"the inertia of a moment"
© 2020 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved