This poem is taken from Stand 220, 16(4) November - December 2018.

Zara Raab Four Poems
The Corpus Clock
Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, England


It has no hands, but marks the hours
with illusions of light, LEDs
that glow in three concentric rounds.
I’m told a cricket with lidded
eyes is eating there the seconds,
time’s endless field; he devours
blade by blade and stares
from two demonic, blinking eyes,
salacious, mouthing time’s gobbets,
off four minutes out of five,
as passers-by gawk at the exhibit;
wheels all the while turning in secret.
Others busy with their lives
pass by, as time does, without stopping.
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