Wristwatch

All along the ticking surface

All the sand along the edge

All deep down in long dry throats:

Fingers press.

Hands Press.

 

All from loose and baggy skin

Round half-lucid teary minds

On beaches few and far away:

Fingers Press. 

Hands press.

wph

VT

17 years old

More by wph

  • Poetry

    By wph

    The Sweet Escape

    When I was a little younger than I am now, 

    I went home after school and wrote until bedtime.

    That was enough to take me into the stratosphere. 

    I'd play in the cloud for hours and hours.

  • Simon Peter

    I will tell you what I remember from high school, and I will tell you how you can follow in my sinful and lowly footsteps, that your blood might be as holy as mine.