Clocks (Slow)

I look at the hands of the clock

Waiting for them to make their move

They’re like

The arthritic fingers of my granddad


Painfully slow


I watch

I remain focus

I remain vigil

Until I find myself

No longer breathing

Purpled face

I take a deep breath

And exhale

The second hand moves down

One step

I allow myself a smile

Now to wait for

Another eternity

For it to move again.