There is a type of women who call themselves, the Alarm Clocks.
Women who are leashed by regiments of time,
an alarm for waking up, for screen time, for when to get ready,
for when to leave,
all in the ways to make sure that their existence is thoughtful,
and of course, practiced.
Look,
here comes one now,
you can tell by the scarf she is wearing,
Alarm Clocks are known to obscure something
from the public,
maybe stacking bracelets to hide their wrists,
shades to hide their eyes,
and scarves, to hide their neck.
She drifts in the grocery store, her fingers tapping the air as if she were playing a piano instead of her manic patience,
exploring the store, wandering through the aisles, her head always moving as she takes in the lights, people, identifies sounds, skirts over faces, nodding in greeting.
She licks her lips as the quiet of the world sticks to her skin, the florescent lights are humming, a bird whips past the window,
she picks up her pace, her time is running out;
friends are waiting, her parents are visiting, she must leave soon.
As she wanders to the fruit section, her eyes tick about the polished apples, oranges,
and limes, like a fly, trying to fixate on one thing
but the world is beautiful,
and noisy,
so she plucks a bruised apple before her alarm goes off,
just in time for her to check out and leave for her next venture,
or else be lost to the maze she is always making,
hurrying down the street, like the White Rabbit.
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Picture was from Pinterest.
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The Word Not World Series (WNW) is an interactive anthology where, once a week, I share a photo and peers give me words that inspired them. Their words inspire poetry, like this one. This poem was inspired by “exploration,” @catscratch345 (IG) , “scarf,” from @c.d.anders (IG), and “selective,” from my mom! Thank you for your inspiration. If you would like to join in on the fun, I post the picture prompt every Saturday on Substack, and my Instagram page @enis.st.sparrow