deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Clock's Face
on the clock's face
blowing off the cuss
covered with dust
as it hung its hands
but nothing happened
as the pendulum swung, Whoa!
though twilight at dusk
a specter of lust
like a relic of myself
with a ghostly laughter
as I lay birthing
and something died
but nothing happened
just a sound of wheels and cogs
screeching midnight's coo coo
on the clock's face, yawning
as the pendulum swung, Whoa!
blowing off the cuss
covered with dust
as it hung its hands
but nothing happened
as the pendulum swung, Whoa!
though twilight at dusk
a specter of lust
like a relic of myself
with a ghostly laughter
as I lay birthing
and something died
but nothing happened
just a sound of wheels and cogs
screeching midnight's coo coo
on the clock's face, yawning
as the pendulum swung, Whoa!
Published 7th Jan 2023
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