she rubs your table
hands you the menu
the clocks tick in your pockets
tick for you
she is faceless
but you lend her a face from the lineage
of your father
no one has used it in a long time
the clocks strike your thighs
strike your thighs:
you stand up
take hold of her
carry her out
the clock in the hall strikes a heavy
sentencing blow
on your shoulder:
you have freed
the queen herself
who cries out
from here on out
all roads are open to you