Internal Clock

The transformer blew at the end of the block

and the house went suddenly blind.

I sat on the linoleum,

listening to the faucet.

One beat. Two. Three.

A heavy, silver drop hits the basin.

I don’t need a watch to know

exactly when the storm will break again.

I found a bill on the counter

and marked the intervals with a felt-tip pen.

A row of five-bar gates

built out of wasted seconds

and the steady, rhythmic leak of my life.