A Minute Lasts Forever

Time slips in ships of broken clocks
its mooring crushed moments, vines
of minutes growing fat off the sun,
greenery woven in wooden metronome,
in a briny sea of memory, anchored
by a rusting chain of events, time
churns beneath a gyre in the harbor:
the ship wrecks, men’s dreams drown
and the hour hand marches on and on.

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