At The Third Stroke… Poem by Matthew Coombe

Today I am wearing a new watch.
And to quote the song – I am feeling good!

Others get their kicks from new shoes
fresh from the box, zero miles on the clock.

Or a wallet of cracked leather
riding low in a back pocket.

But me? It is always a watch.
This one sports a black rubber strap,

orange face and a rotating steel bezel.
It has just two hands and a window on the date.

And I wonder if the twenty seven pages of instruction
(that overlook how to actually tell the time)

are really necessary.
But tonight I will rest easy.

For if I ever find myself two hundred metres
beneath the ocean - its immense weight

bearing down upon me-
I will know the precise date and time of my death.

And there I will remain forever.
A child’s action figure, anchored by the arm

to the sea bed by my new, and now seemingly enormous,
orange faced wrist-watch.


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