Clockmaker

I put the clock in the

Microwave, so I could

Watch it melt. Took it

Out and cradled it,

Hot and broken in my hand-

Like I’d reached into

Dali’s painting and torn

It through that ancient

Skin....

Felt distorted truths

Graze my wistful hand,

Then flit away.

The clock, it kept on ticking-

Like the one inside

The crocodile,

But Never land was

Too far out-

A memory of someone

I cannot find.

I tried to stifle the

Ticktockticktockticktock;

A cloth, pillow, a coat-

But still it drummed...

An endless headache;

Mockery thy name.

(Congratulations

Clockmaker- your

Craftsmanship:

A commendable

Sort of cruelty.)

written by Alex Dawson