Poem: THE SECOND HAND

The end of a semester, the end of a year – we feel time’s march in our skulls. Here, a hymn to that nebulous dread. 

THE SECOND HAND

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A relentless marching clock.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
The hour of madness not far off.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
Terror in the march.
Slip down at doze
Up sharp urgent dawn
The hour nearing
Do you hear it ringing?
It deafens and dooms
Eternity looms.
Terror in the march.
Tock tock tock tock.
Right, left. Endless clock.
Rest not sore mind;
Blood’s flow pulse on
Breath to breath
Hour to hour
Til heart grows sour
Til eye goes red
And the warning call crows –
No one knows where the dead hour goes.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
Terror in the clock.

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