A clock’s hand trickles forward,
each moment a passive
act of resistance, each movement
planned, each syllable pronounced

A clock’s hand steps forward,
now more calculated, the tension
in the room has begun to rise,
the dance is distorted

A clock’s hand now marches,
steaming, angry, the conflict full,
no facing this together, two animals
butting heads with clack and force

The clock is no longer on the wall,
tactics spread out over the table.

JD DeHart is a writer and teacher. He has two poetry projects available at Origami Poetry. Read other articles by JD.