SOME OTHER TIME
Poem by Angela ArnoldClock struck three so slowly, gran, maybe
to suck me in – slowly, slowly –
like the long pasta? And listen: clock
goes with a tickety-tock
limp that’s tremendously HUGE, gran. Have you noticed?
Gran? All you ever say is Hush, meaning
sit? still? meaning wait
till time gives us words again?
making me boil
very quietly, sit heart-in-mouth
shrunk, my blood a stutter
and thunder too
Do you know
your clock has lost two of its teeth?
Your time-diddling secrets
never slip out of your mouth – do they, gran?
Still that clock knocks
at my heart and ticks off its riddles
one after the frightening other. I know, your time
never rages! I know:
it sticks, stops
altogether, scratches
its nose like you do, gran,
before it hands over a PILE of seconds – how
they stomp giant boots! – then holds on hard to its breath.
It strikes its six
exactly when you're ready. Does.