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Toward Posterity
I can’t tell my dad
That maybe he’ll die before me.
He worries enough as it is
From room to room
Making sure all the clocks
Are recording the right time precisely
That all watches are synchronized
that when the inevitable happens
None of us will be late.
He’s a good man my father
And I haven’t the heart to tell him
I haven’t got what it is in me to tell him
That we dismantled each time piece years ago
That every clock is fixed. Precisely
And nothing here moves on
.
.
Copyright © Jan Noble 2010
ISBN 978-1-907513-05-3
Nº 6 of 12
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