Each night he takes him in his hands
The lump of cold, dead stone
And he winds him up, and winds him up,
So we are never alone.
And I hear him ticking, ticking, ticking
Across the empty space between us,
Like a tyrant laughing, laughing, laughing
Reminding me each second
of the victories he’s wrought
When we thought all battles ended,
And no wars again be fought
This timeless wonder in his palm
Splits seconds, so divisive.
He laughs, he ticks, he gloats
And I am wild to visit harm
Upon that little metal piece
To end his reign, to end his lie,
To give us some release.
Wild to pierce his skin, and smash his face,
To rip out all his sense-
Oh, the damage I could wreak
Would all be self-defense!