Poetry: Clock-Hand

“I’ll tackle time…”

My blank stare is directed
at the naked body of the clock;
these eyes are drunken fools
expect the time to play along
but clock hands are loyal to the ancient code,
ignoring jests and spoiled energy ashore.

These eyes were not the first ones to try
to command and control the beat,
to ride on its back, to whip it,
to shape it alive,
all turned into a joke of some kind.

I’ll tackle time
by uniting with the mind,
let eyes rest a while,
fine?

Poetry by Vladimir Fischer