My Clock

by Konnor Oliver

​

The grandfather,

the judge of the foyer,

presiding,

over exactly what he’s not sure.

Perhaps time,

perhaps space,

perhaps all of mankind. 

He’s positive the time will come,

when the defendant 

will cry up,

in his hour of need,

searching,

       frantically, 

for his restitution. 

But this judge knows no mercy. 

When his hands both reach 

for a god that he can never see,

he triumphantly cries out a dangerous precedent,

almost mocking the defendant with his 

sing song voice: 

“O let not Time deceive you,

You cannot conquer Time.”