In this game…

In this game, you only lose
We build a fire, together, in the rain
To win changes nothing, furious
I make myself invisible
The apple tree smashed in the wind, the tornado,
no time to grow another
Does this mad flame still fire?
Is he still a weapon?
Poise, patience, control...
Don’t play, if you can’t stand to lose
As bad as it is, child, it’s not so bad
as it will be
I spend the night teeth clenched, sweat,
twisted in the sheets
He says it all in a silent nod,
boxes and punches his dreams
This desert of death, executed
with exact precision, high speed, duress
His exiles’ heart, his
fragile confidence
When he’s no longer there, he’s in the mirror
Anxious dark eyes stare back at him
The monotony of monogamy, your new dance
(or that old dance comes back)
Love’s the proffer of what you don’t have
to a stranger who doesn’t want it
She gives you nothing...
All those gifts, unrecognized
A man facing eviction, disgusted with his breakfast,
kills his wife, stepdaughter, two neighbors, the dog and himself
The landlord thought him unpredictable (you think?)
Little things would set him off
After she eats the muffin in Amsterdam
she swears off the stuff—
makes her feel paranoid, sick, drowsy
To play this piece in tune is like
bending the back of a chair
with my bare hands
They turned her away
George Sand from Chopin, just before his death
Her gifts for the moment warp
This is the wrong way around
A metal fork in her head
heats from silver, to gold, to red

-September 20, 2010-