11: 59 Poem by Anam Rizvi

Till the second last second,
The clock ticks right.

On and on,
Your legs move,
The floors creeping,
The gymnasium sinking,
The colossal bicycle,
The weight to be lost;
Only to be gained again,
In the next bout of chocolate chip ice cream.


On and on,
The humming drone,
Whistling past your earlobes,
And your grey cells too at times,
So much paradise already lost,
What can be regained now?

It has Stopped.
Hasn’t it?
Unwilling to budge,
Science and metaphysics combine to create this:
A moment held in space and time.

Seeking will power to go on,
You can do it,
You know you can.

11: 59
Static

Off with it.
Let it be gone.

Got off the bike.
Strode out of the class.

Only to hear the clock strike twelve.