Oven Clock Love Song

Four o’clock is still
Red, bleary eyed and
Watching me from
The wall. Sympathy

Can be digitised or
Made to tick – what
Is a pulse if not me,
Counting

Fat drops of rain on
The windowsill, little
Diamonds or quartz
For a watch-face. Still,

Four o’clock is a 
juggernaut – holds me
Like a lover, squeezes
Out the pulp.