Time Pieces Restored
Buzzed in to her bleached blonde (teased too) domain,
I hear no ticks, no tocks, no bells, no hums.
It's close, no room to move beyond the case.
She's caged behind the glass, approaching me.
We speak above rows of old stopped watches.
I pass my slip through the cup of air there.
She seeks her surgeon's tools (no gown, no mask).
Clocks crowd the whimsy wall: clown hands, clown mask
Watching me, bereft of its own domain.
A tool drops, clatters on concrete. She hums
While stooping to retrieve the spoke. The case
Hides her working hands. Did she forget me?
I tap my hand against glass. She watches
Me briefly, smiles, lifts a watch, my watch there.
One cuckoo clock, pillar perched. I reach there
To trace the dusted maiden's face. I mask
My move, afraid I've breached her ruled domain.
Cool china hair, paint blonde, frames lips which hum
To me, "please, place the key in my clock-case
And turn, turn till I can dance; release me."
The sad maid stays still while no one watches.
A mirrored face reflects me. It watches
With my eyes, sliced by steel hands, still swords there.
Uncut, I step aside, jarred by my mask,
Unscarred, but still I'm caught in her domain.
I stare at brown hair, parted, short; time hums
Through new white strands. My mouth, briefly encased
Above and left of "VI", disappoints me.
Buzz. The door quick-snaps ajar, clearing me
Barely. I'm pressed against smooth cased watches.
He swerves, then lunges past me, propelled there
Like thick air blasted in. His thin frame masked
With full cut suit, he fills the tight domain,
Lifts his prize and, voice buzzing like bee hums,
Cradles its antique mahogany case.
She glides to him, like maiden's mate, that case
Their center. His arms embrace this acme,
This...clock. She grasps a side latch. He watches
As the shelf is raised to receive him. Their
Breath stopped, he shifts this gift to her. No masks,
Their faces flush. They rush to her domain
In back. The shelf crashes back. The shop hums.
Examining their treasure now, all hums
Cease. (My watch forgotten—small, dull, gold case.)
A glance, no beat skipped, and she recalls me.
Fingers linger, then scoop my (fixed?) watch's
Crystal, case, band, quick-snapped together there.
"...a spring replaced." I thank her cordial mask.
The door clicks, shutting me from her domain.
On Greenwich Street, shared domain, my watch hums
On my arm. Street sounds erupt, encase me.
I watch hands there repair home. I stay masked.