of midnight metronomy
pillows are streaked with
afterimages of tears,
and crumpled hairs disentangle
from a minute last’s nightmares.
here the ticking starts. listen.
tick, tick, tick.
each second flips a wink under its chin as it wanders past.
can they not wander briskly?
tock, tock, tock.
darling, the minutes are longer than the seconds, don’t you know?
i count both till i hear double. they’re both unbearably slow.
tick, tock, tick.
it’s been a while.
a while? yes, a while to some, not most. i still have a long way to go.
tock, tick, tock.
how long will you count? when will you stop?
don’t ask until you’ve counted the night with me.