GODSWILL ENANG
We lived at our citadel, as gentle men
Watching the music of the clock, tick, tock
Our papers had been dumped in the
Undusted shelves of the court.
They lie there all deaf to the sound of the clock.
The man I killed had long been buried
Two years before our clock was changed
Now the new clock, white coloured
Reminds me of the noise at the traffic,
When I pulled up my truck upon the junction
And could not see the old man, crossing.
I saw blood speckled on the windscreen
And heard a crack of hard bones,
Was much like the tock of this new clock.
The warder said my lawyer is coming
From the State. I was impecunious.
It seems in this den I’ll build myself a home
And spurn the clock when it says to me talk!
I’ve waited to spasms for the day of my trial
And answered the gentle greetings of many new inmates.
Tell my lawyer, if he comes when I’m dead,
To close my case, and sell the truck.
I’m happily resolved with this ticking clock
It brings me good sleep and boundless dreams.