Ansonia

Oisin Vink

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Tick-tock, Tick-tock, Tick-tock,
Says the black mantle clock.

Ansonia, I have had to forget about you;
For you spoke before I had the time.
I cannot unwind you,
Nor bear to unfix those paltry hands
That prowl upon the wall like a disjointed cat.
Black, black, so horribly exact.

Oh how you've begged me to,
Oh how you lie and cry for me
To disturb the shadows,
To pry open your box full of
Little doves and knives,
That perpetually clatter and giggle to themselves -

Now that your face has grown pale and sullen,
Like the snow and mountain dew,
And all you can hope for
Is that your dust will someday make me cry:
Achoo, Achoo, Achoo.
Sometimes you've admitted that you wanted me to.

I've left one,
I've left two,

And now I've had to bury you.



Oisin Vink is an 18 year old Irish poet.