To All the Clocks I've Killed
       

Sorry little timepieces all in a row,
some on my shelves and some
in a box, all dead now to time,
all stopped hands and frozen

digits. Forgive me for handling
you like you were nothing,
for knocking you down,
smashing you up, neglecting

your need for batteries,
leaving you in hotel rooms,
battering the ones in hotel
rooms, leaving you in closets

so the maids don't know
I took you down. I've
pitched you like softballs,
swept you off endtables,

hurled you, hurt you,
left you to die without
winding you or plugging
your frayed cords

into overtaxed outlets.
When I die, I hope
I am treated better
than this triage, this

hatchet job, this
ignorance of sacrosanct
minutes and seconds,
mutilation of hours.

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Copyright © 2020 Allison Joseph All rights reserved
from The Last Human Heart
Diode Editions
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission