battered hands dig
ragged graves, brows
furrow in loss, chests
heave in consternation
Father Time is lowered
into the open earth, a cut
noose around his neck
part of his long white beard singed
the rebels in this town make
the laws of reality their business
say, from now on things are
going to be on our watch
they caught the old wizard
cowering in the nighttime
in fear but unwilling
to expedite clarity
and as the final patch of earth
is scraped over time’s slot
day and night combine
and no one dares sleep again
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