An Hour Ahead

I tell time

by the ribbons
of sun
through the shutters—
the lines they take
around the room
like a road trip,

by the woman
on her cigarette break
every morning—
cutting spherical patterns
into the pavement
at 10:30,

& by the clock
waiting by my bed
like a lone soldier—
the flashing glint
of his armor
keeping watch over

your time.