no one expects
to have their life’s clock
ripped from them
by sterilized men
with sterilized smiles
the thin hands mercilessly
pushed forward
and around, around
around, around
stop!
how many years are now lost
to that single fingered motion
of dancing the black whiskers
past minutes and seconds to the right,
down, back up, and right again
but oh, so very wrong
it’s wrong that such thin little hands
can dissolve those plans
you so carefully plotted
as sterilized men
with sterilized smiles
leave you in sterilized rooms
to ponder what time
they’ve allotted
© Sarah Whiteley
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