Clock Spring

Clock Spring

A Poem by Patrick Westerhaus

"You're getting grays,"

    she said.

"F**k off," I replied,

    but made straight

    for the mirror.


She was right.


Last night I dreamt

     my teeth fell out.


I cupped them in my

    palm like so much

    gravel- all jagged

    and stained


Things fall apart.

Nothing's forever,

dude.

© 2015 Patrick Westerhaus


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Added on December 31, 2014
Last Updated on January 1, 2015

Author

Patrick Westerhaus
Patrick Westerhaus

Lawrence, KS



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I set type and there's a werewolf in my attic. more..

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