the old clock

the clock
in your mother's house
never worked.
her mother brought
it over from Italy
with a short stop
at ellis island.
it was a wooden box
with a bird who
would slide
out from the hatch
making its noise
as the pine cone
metal weights swung
on brown chains.
it never kept time,
but she would rise on her
tip toes,
stretch her short arm
up and spin the hands
to make it speak for you.