The fine gentlemen at the clock shop
don't take credit cards—
ironic, as their clocks know the time.
I bought a weight from them
that doesn't quite match the other two.
But I know no one will notice
as long as time passes by.
I adjusted the escapement
a fraction of a millimeter;
the grandfather clock stops
after no more than four minutes.
It's the clock my father built
when I was just a child
before I understood
what it meant to build,
what broken means,
or the relief and curse
of time standing still.
(Originally published in Hive Avenue, Vol. 5, May 2022.)
