Stopped (a poem)

When I entered this house for the
First time
I brought a lodger. We never talked
or shared, save for the one study
I entrusted to him. And as I worked
and played, he studied
and reported.

But
This afternoon,
he stopped. I took
A few hours
to notice and when I glanced up
his frozen face lied to me. If I had just taken
A second
to glance at my watch I could have seen through his betrayal.
But instead I sat there for
A moment
confused by his findings,
taking in his rigid features.

“You should not stop,” said I.
“Morning,
Noon,
Night.
You must work throughout
The day!”
In my disgust, I removed him from his place.

I looked down at his hands,
still and motionless. And the
Second,
twitching with the final spasms of life. 

I smiled.

“In all the
Years
we have shared this roof, you have asked
nothing of me. You should not deceive me for something so
minute.” 

I carried him to the kitchen and found
a meal to his liking. Within
Minutes
his strength returned, his arms regaining
their familiar sporadic energy. He offered
no words of thanks, save his usual verbal
Tic,
as I brought him back to our room and
he returned to his studies of time.