A Clock Ticks Without Mercy at 3 AM
My mind’s a nest I weave
with bits of debris from everyone’s life.
Worry, my rapturous companion:
When will the drought end,
bless the bony sidewalks,
find the parched arches?
My grandchildren sent out
without their coats, and bedtime
is bedtime plus an hour.
My left ventricle is shrinking,
must face a full winter, pump
harder under my breast bone.
My heart beats over my lover’s breathing.
I could live like this for years:
pump wonder pump wonder pump wonder.
Published in By & By Poetry 2015