Time Held Still

Metal cold and heavy in my palm,

frozen at thirty-seven seconds—

a breath caught,

a moment arrested like a thief.

Glass cracked but unbroken,

measuring silence instead of heartbeats,

its hands stubborn,

refusing the steady tick of now.

Time doesn’t flow here,

only stops,

a weight in the cluttered garage,

a relic of paused lives and lost races.