My clock stopped a long time ago

I wasn’t there when it happened

And I didn’t notice what was wrong

Until I watched the second hand

Thrust itself forward

Only to be pushed back by another invisible hand

They must be arm wrestling

A broken clock is still correct twice a day,

but I never seem to look at it at the right time

Maybe tomorrow, my timing will be better

Maybe the next time

I could reach up and fix it

But I don’t know how

So I won’t even take it off the wall

And time slows to a crawl

The time it stands on means nothing to me

And the frozen moment keeps the hand floating,

Hovering there at the 12,

The precipice of some type of change, I’m sure,

However miniscule that change might be

Insignificant, and I wouldn’t even really mind

If it weren’t for the fact that the clock is still up there

Ticking on my wall and endlessly in the darkness

as I lie there awake, listening

Refusing to tell me the time

But reminding me that it is moving on anyway

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Victoria Lane is a graduating senior at Lindenwood, completing her degree with majors in Game Design, Digital and Web Design, and Art History. She plans to continue her education through Lindenwood’s Writing MFA, where she intends to write more original fiction and poetry. She loves to read comic books, collect action figures, watch films, play video games, make art, and yes, write. 

Portfolio – victoriamlane.com

Instagram – @victoriamadilynlanee