Every year he put his clock back in hope,

and slept for an extra hour:

when the time came he put it forward again,

with hunched shoulders.

He stared at his alarm clock,

angled away from him;

on every lap, its third hand lost a second on the first half,

but always gained it back.

He stared at time's mouthless face,

and it grinned back at him.

The clock struck.