Pendulum
Unraveling a pale strand of yarn, the dawn picks apart the
horizon, tearing open a seam of light.
Those first sweet moments of forgetfulness ebb, dragging
sleep away like a reluctant tide.
Another day.
Routine does not comfort- only enables a body to move from
task to familiar task without thought-
cogs turning in a perfect
mechanism.
Springs tightly coiled.
Heart beat- pendulum and escapement
–
Hands slowly climbing, grasping the minutes and pulling them
past like oars on the Thames.
Only a grinding silence in place of chimes-
You
machine- it says.
Full rotation- the sky is knit together again with black
cables that stretch across the sky—
And sleep spills
forth in waves, thick and drowning.
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