Molten Poetry

Let it burn.

My clockwork heart ticks,
inside, all the gears click.
Maybe there’s a glitch
in the mercury switch?

When lagging behind,
I will twitch, missing time.
The turnkey will grind,
but please turn it to wind.

The merest minute…
My heart, deep within it,
has shining, spinning
gears of brass, with tin bits.

If you wind me up
(the ticking will not stop)
I’ll give you minutes,
hours, and all of my love.


©️ 2018.

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