The Kitchen Clock
How can we make it run backwards,
That taciturn white circle with
Its torpid black hands? We only
Touch the hands when standard
Time comes to shorten or daylight
Saving to lengthen our days. That
Clock is lazy; I’d like to throw
Eggs at it. But I don’t want it
To go forward faster, as if it
Were drawn by death. Let it run
Gently backwards, pausing to
Greet happy times again: the
Day when the schoolboy wrote
His first poem; the day when
The first jonquil bloomed in
His little garden; the day when
His father tossed him into the
Lake without water-wings to
Prove to him he could swim.
“En arriere, ruckwaerts” and “in
Dietro;” those are your orders,
Lazy clock, until the spring
Breaks and it doesn’t matter
What you do anymore.
