JOHNMICHAEL SIMON POETRY

For years the square faced clock

had sat on the shelf

above the kettle where he boiled

water for his morning cup of coffee

then one day she moved it

to the other side of the kitchen

without asking him

from then on he would glance up

to see the time

and meeting only blank faced stares

of counter and jars mocking him

would turn which way and that

until after a while he would find

her standing there behind him

broad peasant face enjoying

his confusion as if to say

in this house I decide where things go

 

ticking away behind his back

stern and steady as the plodding years

their carriage, she driver, he cart horse

she sitting up there, switch in hand

tongue clicking, foot tapping

bit chafing again between his jaws