My Daughter’s Clock
On a long, long night
a deep, dark night
each time my eyes open half asleep
the direction of my daughter’s head has changed.
All night long
in the darkness in which all eyes are closed
the child’s head changes directions.
Like the hand of a clock
like a sailboat sailing on a black sea
like the rudder of a spaceship swimming through the universe of stars.
As I stroke her sweat-soaked head,
I feel pity for the constant effort
to set her clock to the clock of the universe
and I think.
The sound when life listens to the universe
the scent when a gull smells dry land
The blind male dog climbs up to its perch and gazes at
the clock of the universe.
On a long, long night
a deep, dark night
I press my nose to the child’s wet forehead and look inside
the black sea
the shining water bottle floating on it
time of the universe.