Beat the Clock

Every morning begins
with a curse and a prayer

and somehow I stretch
the leg out and my foot
touches carpet
and my day is begun

then it's
beat the clock
to get children
out the door

then it's
beat the clock
to get me
at the desk

then it's
beat the clock
to get things
off my desk

then it's
beat the clock
to make it
through traffic

to where I play
beat the clock
with dinner
homework
baths and bed

then I play
beat the clock
before Seinfeld comes on

and then I try not
to play beat the clock
anymore

just her and me
into the late hours

loving and
talking and laughing
and planning and
dreaming

this is anything but
beat the clock time

then I collapse.

The next sound I
hear is the persistence
of the alarm.

Is it any wonder I want
to beat the clock and curse?

But also I give the
prayer of thankfulness
for more time

and I realize
I have played
beat the clock
once again

as I race to finish
this poem
in the modest sanctuary
I have been afforded
temporarily
before I need
to wake the kids up
and start the game
all over again.
art
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