Tuesday, May 5, 2009


From room to room, our flashing swords
Grapple, the air sliced by each thrust.
To land that fatal blow we must
Show no mercy. We move towards
The stairs. Backwards my love ascends
Furiously fending off my
Unsubtle lunge. My mouth is dry.
I thrust again. Again she fends
Me off and strikes my full-flushed cheek
And turns and runs. Slams the wood door
Like gunshot. I hear the bed creak.
Panting, sweating, I come for more,
But she has thrown away her blade
And taken up her tear-filled shield.
My rash and vengeful fury played
Into her nimble hands. I yield.

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