Clocks
protective of their places
beside the bed or on the wall.
Jealous, too, of the hands
that placed them there,
and the freedom to walk away.
Lonely, if the truth were told,
ashamed to be imprisoned
by their own cruel sense of humor.
Crucified, looking out across a field
of empty rooms, bleeding time,
too late to change, too soon to die.
June 4, 2006
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