I can’t see into the night anymore.
The clocks leapt back last Sunday:
5:00 became 4:00, 10:00 became 9:00,
and the sky’s dizzying turns made me lost.
Last night, the sun bent down,
put a blindfold over my eyes,
and spun me around three times.
Forgive my wild gaze.
This morning, the bat in my arms
bludgeons the piñata of my dreams,
made of fantastical adventures,
childhood liberties, and secrets I hold.
Each swing coincides with an alarm clock blare,
making my scattered thoughts spill like candy
into my waking life.
Forgive my baggy eyes.
The dawn breathes a deceptive promise,
its mechanism of sunlight and birds
already set into motion by the time I wake.
The world has left me behind, unless
I chase it like a commuter catching the bus,
coffee sloshing out of my mug
and freezing on the pavement.
Forgive my vacant stare.
Max Azuara is a sixteen-year-old student from Denver, Colorado. He has a passion for writing poetry and short stories, often finding inspiration in nature and the cosmos. Max is the creator of the blog "Poetry, Prose, & Popcorn," which is a testament to his dedication to sharing his work with a global community. In his free time, he would like to be found somewhere in the gorgeous Colorado mountains with a book in hand. His favorite novels include Cloud Cuckoo Land, The Great Believers, and Watchmen.
"The alarm clock" by Szift is licensed under CC BY 2.0.
