Match Point (National Poetry Month Challenge 27)

Write a poem made of ten metaphors.

The clock is my opponent
Sitting across the table eyeing me
My day is the chessboard
I watch the pawn of my minutes
Slowly fall over, taken hostage
By time’s impatient laughter
I begin to melt and shift
Until I am the floor
And time dances upon me with sharpened heels
Only so many hours, so many nameless lovers
I haven’t been able to kiss
My age, my chaperone
Resting her cool hands upon the wrinkles
Lingering under my eyes
Sleep, a reminder of wasted time
A jealous best friend waiting in the wings
To shove me down the stairs
Crashing fears slam against the windows
Tiny birds trying to find a way in
And the clock slowly ticks down his advice
Until the minutes are tattoos upon his palms
And I am running to him to drag my opportunities
Across my skin, permanently black
For dreams and expectations are cousins, cruel and cold
Lingering in the distance always out of reach


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