A Poem Inspired by Jane Rohrer's
"The Gearshift Poem"
The Clock Poem
If I look at his hand on the twelve
My eyes will open
My pupils will dilate and focus
Scanning, deciding where to look
Down the back of his hand to the tip
up his black plastic to smooth
curvy spheres, his appendage bouncing among them
To my hand twisting
time, pushing his hand back,
back
and after twenty
four hours it is still happening-
If his hand ever
(Now clicking back to the twelve)
Rings I will brush it back thinking yes
And wanting not to cage us in habit