Clock

A new poem. I may use this in a future project, but currently it has no home so I thought I'd just share it here.

CLOCK

There’s a clock in his eyes
Ticking away
To the march of this explorer’s
Frowning day

And I am forced to wonder
Who exactly does this
Watching the plumage of
White voyeurism

On icy lakes she glides
Sea monster in the mist
In the most peculiar place
Misplaced and dishonest

Refrain from feeding the birds
Is the only wooden afflatus
Watching lonely, lovely Swan
Is tempting complication