Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Daylight Savings

Clocks: imperiously rude
Hands gesturing for attention
Somehow continuously staring
Yet yawning emptily before you're even done

Any sun soaks you in warm syrupy attention
while nudging you towards the door
tells you she is yours real until
bruises become nightfall

Winds open. It's a hoax.
They close like a bridle.


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