My Wall Clock Stopped At Five To Five Poem by David McLansky

Let’s have no more talk of death
No more, no morel
I hear its’ rattle in my breath;
My limbs fail me with every step

The absence of those friends I’ve known
Leaves me in silence, condemned, alone;
Gone is their laughter, their unique jests,
I search about sad and depressed;

Lost in thought I hobble in the streets,
Unconscious of so many faces;
I feel a stranger to all I meet:
The barrenness of empty spaces;

Oh where is the balm of quiet sleep
That leaves me refreshed when I awake;
Still alive, I rise and weep,
Exhausted by every step I take;

My wall clock hands have stopped at five,
I tell the time by my body’s aches;
My pain reminds me I’m still alive;
I’ll buy plot and stone herein inscribed:

Here lies the remains of one who strived
In the vain delusion he would survive;
Burn not my bones, but leave a trace
Of this member of the human race.