Clockwork Words


Early night and damp-steeped air

leaking in the window

Framed eyes, his breathing heart,

and inhales of ink


Pressure of warmth or solid air

filling in my heart

Every steady drip pours

like golden ink


Sound of providence swallowed,

moving through him

Steady weight, a slowing pace,

and he breathes


The clockwork of words is swallowed

in every hesitant breath

Jaggeds of letters fill me

and I wait.

The End

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