Tuesday, July 2, 2013

A Poem by J.K. Durick

On the Clock
It starts at birth, even before the midwife
Cradles us into this world, it begins ticking
Even before we are presentable, it starts
Measuring our minutes, then our hours
At first they go slowly, half days endless,
Minutes and hours seem mountainous
Endless uphill climbs, ever to get behind us
Afternoons we’re left waiting, bored by it all
At first it’s a dull friend, then a playmate,
Then a rival, and finally an ominous guest
Sweep of the second hand, plodding minutes
The dizzying drop of the hours into our days
We don’t get to clock on or clock off this one
It follows us around our inevitable companion
In the end, there’s no payday, no inheritance
For the children, they get their own to tend
Ancient pharaohs built monuments to theirs
Explorers crossed the unknown to use theirs
Our inventors built diversions to distract us
From the relentless tick-tock of our clock
But we pride ourselves, check watches, sigh
And then align with our preset quitting time.
J. K. Durick is a writing teacher at the Community College of Vermont and an online writing tutor. His recent poems have appeared in Literary Juice, Jellyfish Whispers, Third Wednesday, and Common Ground Review.

No comments:

Post a Comment