|
My Father's Watch |
Your watch beats
three minutes fast.
You wouldn’t know that,
nor care, anymore.
One of the last things you asked
for me to do was ribbon-wrap it
around your swollen wrist.
This is not real, but it is.
We are all individuals,
climbing under our own
wired fences.
We kick down anything trying to
grab our ankles and Station wagon
drag us into the darkness.
And we'll win.
Kicking cat litter sand off our
worn soles.
copyright 2018
Alyssa
Trivett |
