Last night I was locked in my father’s watch,
hidden away in a dark drawer,
counting blind.
The timer started to roll over as soon as
its hands began to approach the hour.

I woke up from the dream,
sickly sweat under the watch.
It was scared of its half-truths,
from analog to digital,
from form to function.

Once, time slipped from my grasp,
but still it clung to me.
The watch was old and it kept
the old time, so it felt heavy on the hand.
Without it, the lightness felt dizzying,
the time lost.

As soon as I could, I reclaimed the time
I aimed to make it mine.
And those who saw it paused.
Gave it more than a seconds thought (the watch knew),
and it had moved on from being my father’s.

Agniv Sarkar is a student of mathematics and philosophy, leaving high school early to further these pursuits. He found poetry through philosophy and found the intersection of the two able to create the most beautiful artwork.