The tattooed clock

An angel danced on my mother's womb
as it rained days, then nights, my
finite allocation. The angel whispered
a prophecy about a tattooed clock appearing
on my back, when it started ticking I would
have to dance until it started to rain with angels.

The clock appeared but did not tick, I felt faint
movements on my stomach, as I slept an angels hands
passed through to wind the clock. I woke, could not
see as I danced with a messenger to fulfill
a prophecy. I felt a kick inside, the new earth's
inception, seraphs arrived with tattooed wrists.