Spring Loaded

The radiator quit its rhythmic metal banging

and the apartment went suddenly, perfectly flat.

I twisted the dial to the twenty-minute mark

and listened to the clockwork start its chat.

A mechanical pulse in a white plastic shell,

it doesn't care about the dark or the dread.

It just watches the red wedge slowly collapse,

shrinking toward the zero like a spool of thread.

I’m waiting for the bell to tell me I’m done

with whatever part of the hour I’m trying to kill.

The spring inside is tight and ready to snap

while the rest of the world stays heavy and still.