Emptying an old cabinet,
space clearing,
a box is filled with years
of accumulated
junk
Five-year-old phone book,
disposable cameras,
instructions for electrics –
long obsolete –
an old mantel clock, which is
“of no consequence.”
Resting on its hinged back,
face upwards,
its hands unwind the power
not of a spring
but of a single AA battery.
Dull gold face gleams,
silver effect face,
stone top and stand,
it lays ticking
and tocking on
as through
nothing
has changed,
as if unaware
that it is
already
dead.