An old one, somewhat overlooked:
(Longcase clock. Prince of Wales Museum, Mumbai
11/7/15 Image by AKS.9955)
The alarm rang. I finally awoke.
He who had admired my hourglass figure
could never analyse what made me tick;
was unsympathetic to my moon phase.
(His mood swings were like a pendulum.)
Sometimes he seemed like an automaton.
At other times he would look raised daggers.
Yet people seemed to bracket us together.
My best friend thought he was rather striking.
But I felt he was winding me up-
like when he told me he had a pierced cock.
Although he had an open face, duplex
movements were second nature to him.
Now he’s not the mainspring of my life
any more. We’d got into a bezel.
Tempus fugit… It had been a long case;
it was time someone regulated things.
My lack of self-esteem was weight-driven.
He was pushing me nearer to the verge.
I was getting Thursday disease all week,
waiting for him to dial; seeking a crutch.
I should have seen that he was the loser.
Inevitably I blew my fusee.
Mother said a man should be the hunter
and a girl’s best friend would be her jewels,
but I preferred to make my escapement
before my life was utterly screwed up.
Ultimately I ran like the clappers
to avoid horological heartbreak:
Now I don’t have fecit written on me.
(Thursday disease- gradual loss of precision in timekeeping as
clocks usually wound on a Sunday.)