Thursday, January 25, 2007

Table Tennis.

are you a poet,
a writer by design?
your practiced craft
what did you call it,
a game?
with elaborate execution
you move your pieces;
rook and pawn
lips, eyes and your
unquestionably perfect hair.
well i have news
i forfeit.
conceited victory is sour on
your pursed lips,
isn't it?

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

That you noted lip, eyes and unquestionably perfect hair

is victory enough, and not sour

my trailing skirts caught you in their web, denying and decrying

you lifted your head from scribbling metaphors to sense my scent

I need no more

check

and mate?