Not a sun- but a rain-dial, it tells time
rapidly, then untells it back again
like a rotary phone or pantomime
time machine. It pays to listen when
it stutters T-, T-, T-, T-, like a furious squirrel
outraged you let your garden get so dry.
Safer to stand back and watch it whirl
its turret machine gun, firing at the sky.
This poem appeared in Geist 118 in a set of poems along with "Umbrella" which can be read here.
James Pollock is the author of Sailing to Babylon (Able Muse Press) and You Are Here: Essays on the Art of Poetry in Canada (Porcupine’s Quill). He has been a finalist for both the Griffin Poetry Prize and the Governor General’s Literary Award for poetry. He lives in Madison, WI, and at www.jamespollock.org.
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