The Clock Is The Time's Tongue Poem by Anahit Arustamyan

THE CLOCK IS THE TIME'S TONGUE
I wonder if the clock is the time's tongue. I don't know how long the air would be in my lungs. I know how many songs I have sung. I sing with the clock to fill up my mug. This thread is too thin to mend my heart's rug. You are too distant to give me your hug. The clock is a parrot flown to the time's tongue. Time is a pirate stealing lots of rugs. I wonder if the clock knows how many holes have been dug. Whose songs still roam flown from the ancient mugs? Should I let you know that my love is my drug? I sing with the clock to let the air rove in my lungs.