The dead clock breaks to pieces,
Anguished faces
Leering at shattered mirrors.

I think of time, ticking—
Of the core, pounding—
And you. Are you embarrassed?

There’s never, never a word.
Absence.

-s

What’s happening up there?
They’ve lit up the whole night for us.
For us, my love.
Can you count the bulbs?
One, two. One, two, three, four, five, six…
Ah, my eyes!
Nine fifty-seven.

Let’s practice the words.
The clicks.
The shame.
Let’s prepare for the night beyond tonight.
Hold his games, and hold again.
Hold them tight, so he cherishes
Your touch.

Walk the ants’ path,
In step with a million
Black lines.
Inhale the green,
Mix it with “the ends”
In the name of your highness!

-s

The clock ticks,
and when it stops,
the room floods red.
Blood red.

A conflict stirs within—
fierce,
raw,
instinctive,
dark.

Silence shatters.

-s