A Resonating Hour

Tick. Tock.
simple. harmonic.

motion. the long glinting legs shiver
dancing eerily to the beats of the orchestrating quartz
pulsating behind its sheet white face
ornate with ugly wrinkles, regularly spaced,

oddly, chime! of ca’phonic cries!
Legs. Out.
tortured. delicacy…
Split.
In half, a-hundred-and-eighty degrees.
Time of birth. 6 p.m.

 

————————then breathe again
——————-let the redness flow
————————across the skies
——————-and silent strokes

————————minuscule, utterly alive
————————flutter of wings

————-ventures, while reddish-brown dries

across the written page.

Past 6 post-meridian,

limp legs, muted vibrations, the clock

face torn askew,

broken.
So who alone knows when the clock does stop?
Tick-tock.


Daily Prompt – Connected 

Discover Challenge – Origin Story 

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