The City High Review

Poem by Annie Hartley

I want to grab a freeze ray from my jacket pocket

And fire it at the clock on the wall.

The hands would freeze,

Cuffed by delicate, frosty chains.

Out from the clock’s nucleus, the ice would spread

Across time and space,

Draped over every timeline

Until the entire Universe looked like a tall oak

In the dead of winter,

Its branches encased in a sparkling prison.

And time would stop,

Resting peacefully for eternity

And allowing us mere mortals to take notice of it

And mark each moment as it passes.

But time is fire.

It dances and moves and blurs,

Refusing to be trapped or beaten.

It melts right through the ice,

Laughing as it does so.