She sports a steal cage chest that lacks a song bird to rouse her heart awake each day.
I tried hanging a pocket watch in its place but no machine can substitute for nature.
Some mornings, She spends whole hours going through the motions without a single tick.
The pocket watch was my uncle's. Her incompetent father.
he timed her life compulsively recording each tick exactly for every milestone, but the universe intends for some things to be secret from the numbers, maybe that's who keeps the watch from waking up in the mornings.
The watch knows the spinning, but not its meaning, and she knows she's living but not really. So the pocket watch sits complacent in the ghost town of her empty bird cage body
My cousin, the clock tower.
No comments:
Post a Comment