Nephilim

“Time is broken,”
she says as she
gazes at the floor.
I tilt my head into
a question mark.
She looks at me,
away from the pieces
of clock at her feet.
Her eyes are black pebbles,
blank like a doll’s.
“Time is broken,”
she repeats,
“and I broke it.”
Into the wall she walks,
then vanishes, leaving
me to clean up her mess.
The day continues,
slowly, as if it no
longer has an end.

Copyright 2012
A. J. Hayes
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