From an estate sale –
pendulum clock. Westminster
chimes now count my days.
For whom the bell tolls
2
From an estate sale –
pendulum clock. Westminster
chimes now count my days.
Emily Bronte * labored quietly but I * scream “Here are my words!”
It’s said women swoon
at his rallies, yet his wife
once called him stinky.
Spring ahead and lose
an hour. What I could have done
in that length of time…
It’s fun to see what
it’s like and then go back to
being nobody.
Tourists whisked to the
top while on tenant floors, one
hears “shhhhhhsss” like secrets.
Like a hick I tilt my
head to see the top and
ponder tossed pennies.
In the skyscraper
canyons, light outlines moving
shapes sipping Starbucks.
I am the dull one, struck
mute by accomplishment
what I do, nothing.
Like a jeweler
displaying gems on velvet
wealth gleams beyond reach