Singapore Watch by Joe Massingham

No, this one won’t do at all,
a carcass shrouded in a pall,
too long a shape, perhaps a
comment on my earthly stay,
reducing me to a skeleton,
not at all a sometime
front row forward.
And the face is in the shadows,
not seeking light as I have done
consistently since last I visited the
embalming room.
The book, perhaps, is big enough
to occupy the journey
to that other land
but the watch would make me
so aware of passing time
I’d be too uptight to read.

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