The clockhands spin,
‘Round and ‘round,
Trapped forever
In an endless cycle of chase and capture,
Flee and chase,
Chase and capture.
‘Round and ‘round
In an endless dance
That lasts long after the hands stop moving.
The hands will spin for eternity,
A backdrop to Life.

Once upon a time
I carried a corkscrew in my teeth
and tiny feathers leaked out
every time I whispered.
I wonder where the time goes
when you’re not cleaning out the shower drain;
all my hair collects in my pocketbook.
The barista asks for change
and all I can produce is pen caps
and an expired ****** I found in your glove box.
An ocean stands on two feet before me,
all this leather in my hands,
but I’m pierced by the clockhands
I saw in the lines around your mouth.
Tiny feathers leaking out.