clocks

If we are quieter

than the many hidden clocks,

if tonight we can talk slower

than the song playing at nine-o-clock,

ten-o-clock somewhere, we will be ok.

Chase the brightest words as we round every cor

ner, holding you tight, shaking to my own rhythm.

But backwards I can only go alone,

and going without you at ten-o-clock,

nine-o-clock somewhere feels lonely. Still

I try to fight for the fading

smell left rubbed into my hands,

that’s the night, unravelled.

I reach down, leave empty.

Holding you tight, shaking to my own rhythm I,

I,

pausing

find a way

to give us

passage to morning

my mind, a way forward.