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155th Weekly Poetry Contest honorable mention: Muted

by Ryan Stone

Clock hands circle lethargically. Heels
clack, a distant speaker hisses –
muted, surreal.

I shift on a green vinyl chair, eyes
trace an arc from clock to window.
Outside, a succubus sun
kisses children at play.

At my father’s bedside, both of us
wish I wasn’t. I despise myself
for watching the minutes, and him

for teaching me to. Broken
conversations keep awkward vigil
for something long dead.

155th Weekly Poetry Contest