1399: Alarm Clock by Jennifer Maier - The Slowdown: Poetry & Reflection Daily

The Slowdown: Poetry & Reflection Daily

Episode 1399: "Alarm Clock" by Jennifer Maier
Host: Maggie Smith
Date: November 19, 2025

Episode Overview

In this episode, host Maggie Smith explores the constructed nature of time, drawing from personal anecdotes about Daylight Saving Time and time zones before introducing and reflecting on "Alarm Clock" by Jennifer Maier. The poem itself is a persona piece, giving voice to an alarm clock, and meditates on the human tendency to split and segment infinity through the invention of measured time. Through poetic language and thoughtful reflection, Smith uses this episode to invite listeners to question our relationship with time and the illusions we maintain to find structure in our days.

Key Discussion Points and Insights

The Artificiality of Time

[00:50] Maggie Smith opens with an accessible musing on Daylight Saving Time, sharing the confusion it sparks in her children:
“So it’s seven o’clock now just because they say it is?”
She acknowledges the arbitrariness of “springing forward” and “falling back,” noting how technology now often keeps time updated automatically, but kitchen clocks rarely match.
Smith also discusses the complexities of time zones, especially when traveling for work, and how explaining “my time and your time” to her children reveals the odd possessiveness embedded in our language about time.

Humanizing Time Through Language and Machines

Smith notes that today’s poem is a persona poem—written in the voice of a clock—highlighting how humans already humanize clocks through terms like “face” and “hands.”

Reading and Reflecting on "Alarm Clock" by Jennifer Maier

[02:03] Maggie Smith reads the poem in full.
- The poem’s opening lines set a reflective tone: “Because you seek your image in all things, the part you call my face is round, though dark as the night sky...”
- The alarm clock’s voice observes how humans impose structure and meaning (“numbers glow in the places you’ve ordained for them”) and how we use clocks to chart our “course hourly through nothingness.”
The poem critiques the futility and smallness of dividing infinity:
“My hands too are complicit in your fictions... they slice your life into morsels to fix on the tines of your fork.”
— “Alarm Clock,” Jennifer Maier [02:50]
The poem’s speaker (the clock) points out the irony that, though “untouched by time,” even it “can’t keep it.”
- Memorable metaphor: “Each tick a small erasure like the beat of your own heart. One less, one less.”
The poem’s closing reflects on the impossibility of truly possessing time:
“Each second breaks like a salt wave at your feet and returns to the sea, which is only ever the now alive and infinite. This is what time tells you, the fact I whisper 60 times per minute but that you will not hear, you and the others roused to waking only by my screams.”
— “Alarm Clock,” Jennifer Maier [03:51]

Notable Quotes & Memorable Moments

On the arbitrary nature of time:
“Nothing makes it clearer that time is a construct like Daylight saving time.” — Maggie Smith [01:16]
On using clocks as metaphors:
“A clock is already something we humanize, metaphorically, given its face and hands.” — Maggie Smith [01:42]
From the poem, on the futility of dividing time:
“How like you not to see that even I, untouched by time, can't keep it.” — Jennifer Maier, read by Maggie Smith [03:26]
On the ceaseless nature of the present:
“Each second breaks like a salt wave at your feet and returns to the sea, which is only ever the now alive and infinite.” — Jennifer Maier, read by Maggie Smith [03:55]

Important Timestamps

00:50 — Maggie Smith introduces the topic of Daylight Saving Time and personal musings about time’s arbitrariness.
01:29 — Reflection on time zones and the possessiveness of “my time/your time.”
01:42 — Introduction to today’s poem as a persona poem spoken by a clock.
02:03 — Smith reads “Alarm Clock” by Jennifer Maier in full.
03:26 — Poem delves into the illusion of mastery over time and the clock’s complicity in “your fictions.”
03:51 — Poem closes with philosophical reflection on the living moment and our inability to possess time.

Tone and Language

The episode is contemplative, gentle, and nurturing, matching Maggie Smith’s trademark thoughtful delivery and the meditative spirit of The Slowdown. The language is poetic yet accessible, inviting listeners to consider the beauty and strangeness of the everyday act of keeping time.

Summary Takeaway

This episode tenderly examines our human obsession with slicing and measuring time through the lens of an imaginative poem. By channeling the “voice” of a clock, Jennifer Maier’s “Alarm Clock” becomes a meditative critique of our rituals and anxieties about time’s passage. Maggie Smith uses this poem and her own reflections to remind listeners to notice the “now,” questioning what we lose in our rush to master time.

Transcript

A (0:00)

Hey neighbor. Celebrate the holidays with Birch Lane. Our timeless furniture and decor are delivered for free in days, not weeks. It's classic style for joyful living. Shop Birch Lane, a Wayfair specialty brand@birchlane.com.

B (0:14)

When it comes to gifting, everyone on your list deserves something special. Luckily, Marshall's buyers travel far and wide, hustling for great deals on amazing gifts so you don't have to. That means your mom gets that cashmere sweater, your best friend. That's that Italian leather bag. Your co workers unwrap their favorite beauty brands, and your nephews the coolest new toys. Go ahead. At prices this good, you can grab something for yourself too. Marshalls we get the deals. You gift the good stuff. Shop now@marshalls.com or find a store near you.

A (0:50)

I'm Maggie Smith, and this is the Slowdown. Every fall in many states, including Ohio, we set the clocks back one hour for Daylight Saving time. We call it falling back, and in the spring, we set our clocks forward one hour. We spring forward. What this means is that what we experience as 6pm one day is 5pm or 7pm the next. My kids would point out how arbitrary that was and asked questions like, so it's seven o' clock now just because they say it is? My answer was something like, yeah, because it's strange to me, too. Nothing makes it clearer that time is a construct like Daylight saving time. Frankly, I'm grateful that my phone and computer update automatically. The clock on my microwave and the clock on my oven never match. They're different, and both are wrong because I never bother to set them ahead or back. Time zones are something else I had to attempt to explain to my children early on because of work travel. When I travel away from my kids, I have to coordinate our calls, which means demystifying the difference between my time and their time. I'm three hours behind you in California, or I'm seven hours ahead of you in Greece. All of this talk about my time and your time is so odd anyway, when you think about it as if any time is ours, that's ours. O U R S no pun intended. Today's poem is a Persona poem spoken by a clock, so it addresses the idea of time in an imaginative way. And in a sense, a clock is already something we humanize, metaphorically, given its face and hands. Alarm Clock by Jennifer Meyer because you seek your image in all things, the part you call my face is round, though dark as the night sky, sky at its curved edge numbers glow in the places you've ordained for them. By these you chart your course hourly through nothingness, 12 candles raised against its fathomless infinities as men mapped the stars so as not to drown there. My hands too are complicit in your fictions, the short slow and the long fast one, and the fixed red arm that delivers the morning like the knife they slice your life into morsels to fix on the tines of your fork. How like you not to see that even I, untouched by time, can't keep it. Some days I want to drop my hands in futility at the way you equate passing with dissolution, each tick a small erasure like the beat of your own heart. One less, one less. And have you ever stopped to think? Not even you can spend a thing. You can't possess that while you're busy portioning infinity. Each second breaks like a salt wave at your feet and returns to the sea, which is only ever the now alive and infinite. This is what time tells you, the fact I whisper 60 times per minute but that you will not hear, you and the others roused to waking only by my screams. The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. To get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter. Find us on Instagram lodownshow and bluesky.slowdownshow.org. Hi, it's Maggie. The Slowdown is the only poetry podcast in public media. That means your support is vital to keep us going. No matter how much you give, your contribution makes a real difference. Head to slowdownshow.org donatetoday to power. More Poems into the Future.