because it is an old watch
and keeps old time
of which I am fond—
the time of its making,
the time, just before dessert,
you gave it to me
to commemorate the passage
of twenty years’ time together,
which was about to have its stop.
It is a thin watch,
which you said meant a good watch,
for you would have even our end
a work of thoughtful elegance.
I am winding this watch
that has outlasted, now, three bands
to show both
how permanent are last things
and how brief a time all things last.
A watch and its band,
once one, then two,
foreverness wed
to replaceability.
I am winding this watch
so it can pass
through its twelve stations
day after day
in its blind sweeping of hours,
time heavy on its hands.
A ticking symbol of loss,
this watch catches at my wrist
like a small hand
that won’t let go.