Grandmother clock

Quarterly and all through the night, chiming,

she kept the time you never gave;

bore the title you were meant to claim.


Clocking precisely the hours of their births:

each grandchild a stroke on the gold

of a face that watched your waste of days.


I’m sure you heard her, tutting in the hall.

Turned from her glare as you polished

the bone of her – felt each minute’s weight.