in the end,
you tell me, it is
the thing you save,
though you don’t wear
a watch, ever.
I imagine you
sunk to the neck
in her- and also the other,
holding your wrist
out of the muck
to save the gold.
knowing this,
as you seem
to be near full
to the gill of me,
I see it held out-
safe from the mire.
not time,
but your self
is what gets the lifeline.
I wonder if this once,
you’d let it go
and see that it is me
that needs the reach.
I am the watch that needs saving.
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