My Minutes, My Seconds

My minutes are light, my seconds can smile in verses,
For prose is the delicacy of the brainy and bright.
My worse sentences appall me when the tall enemy
Condemns me, convincing my wincing habits of finesse.
Well is the second, of a further reckon, of further letters,
Words so mighty that knightly men cancel the ten hearts.
There are ten deeds of ten fingers, and ten toes of feet,
The head controls them with largest desires, offering the
Life, coming with the wife of deliveries and decisions.

My clock sends a lock on the senses, frolicking in the cavities
Of the natural mountain, overtaking the coaches as rivers.
My clock is bold and certain, of coldness and ears that fight,
The ticking is bearing my pain, but my sounds are worse.

by Naveed Akram

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