For Love of No One
The dainty passages of the rook pawn look mapped.
If I had the power to glare at the meadow
Until snow fell and iron poured into a tress
The indelible dress of the wind against her thigh
I might return this solace to the ages.
For now I am speaking real,
Though trapped miming diatribe
To anoint myself a new maker.
The ledger always bends like a toy in the sun,
And my hands cannot be played with.
Everyone neon begs to be someone—
We go to the movies, listen to pop tunes,
Hop runes, consume, consume, consume.