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

16 years old

More by wph

  • Poetry

    By wph

    Midwestern Night

    Midwestern night.

    There’s something out in the fields,

    Something banging on the roof.


     

    Fresh vomit in the toilet.

    The sink is running, so you can’t

    Hear your own heavy breathing.