Clocks

All around me is
the wrong time.

The clock on my
desk having twice lapped

the clock on my phone;
its seconds ravenous, whilst
my wrist still says 'six'.

I choose to ignore
watch, digital display and
clock - spitting minute

after minute, too
fast, too hungry, too urgent
for time to keep up -

No, I measure time
in moments of light, the height
of the sun, brightness

of sky; fading from
brilliant to bleached, dragging
colour west, to sleep.

I realise that
in this gripped silence, the time
is irrelevant.