The Way Time Used to Pass
The clock
pounded
like a
kettle drum,
two o’clock
in the
afternoon
rolled around,
two in
the morning,
Saint Bernards
with sloshing
flasks of
minutes climbed
time’s glacier,
sons of
Adam swung
down on the
second hand.
Now the
sand
in the
hour glass
has turned
digital,
frozen
like a
waterfall
in winter.
