A Single Image of Clock Children

for Syria

Flywheels enamel

with heartblood,

aortal ticks hesitate

before the dull bang

of a falling fist;

the fat knuckle

of the next hit,

tick tick the

small ones,

the eaters of dust,

stone-eyed they

fall apart like lost time;

the weights that

regulate all this

are unbalanced.

Reviews

[Coyote Song]

Very well done poem. The small ones, the children, are the victims of their parents or other adults. They have no say. It's a sadness that is always creeping around the world like a dark shadow.

[Tina Kline]

Yes, everywhere there is pain, death, destruction and lots and lots of hate. I fear for ny one alive in these times.

Very well written poem. I enjoyed it.

[Cascara (aka Sprint Goe..]

The flywheel harming the poor children is a unique embodiment of pain. Such uniqueness makes this poem even more heartfelt.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

yes, they are definitely unbalanced...the world is a ticking clock, but more like one attached to a bomb--

destruction is everywhere, love is nowhere...

we need a new clock.