Poetry: Alarm

For about 12 years I spent two hours or more a day commuting to work, just sitting in traffic 10 hours a week, 40 hours a month!  This poem is a window into that “zombiefied” lifestyle, something I’ve been freed from for over three years.  How wonderful to have that time returned to me:

Watching the clock
waiting for time to
catch up with me:
Breakfast time.
Traffic time.
Working time.
Lunch time
More working time
Leaving time… finally here.
Time drags along
like a leashed cat
never taught to heel
Coming home late
the house dark
My kitchen smells like
the dinner missed
Opening a window
a breeze floats in
scent like rain on the black top,
dust and wet at the same moment
Pouring myself into bed
next to one already asleep
a new rhythm starts.
Breath bellows in and out
Fresh replacing exhausted
In a room absent of fluorescent
Moon glowing through
slits of blinds
patterns across the nightstand
where the alarm clock sits
Not a clock only
nor an alarm, but both.
It’s red eyes watching
as I toggle its hated button
Alarm clock: sound and visual aide
that announces my next destination.
A location I’ve purchased no ticket for
but a price has been paid.
Eyelids close
Mind opens
Dreams dreamt,
too quick to absorb
ALARM!  ALARM!
Time races out of the gate!
I am the slow one now…
5 a.m. comes too early.
Quickly get on the carousel!
Around I go into another day,
following the sun,
while wishing for the moon.

Published by

Shannon Laws

Shannon P. Laws, born in Seattle, Washington, lives and writes in the Pacific Northwest. Author of three poetry books, "Madrona Grove", "Odd Little Things", and "Fallen" and an audiobook of her select mid-life dating satire poems, "You Love Me, Your Love Me Not". For seven years she produced award-winning community radio programs that promoted the PNW music/art community. Shannon's other interests include operating her voice-over company, Chickadee Productions, and Poetry Club. Since 2015 Poetry Club is dedicated to the neighborhood discussion and sharing of poetry.

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