Lamet
Lamet!
is what she hears first
him, screaming her second name
as he descends upon her
no time to process
gravity
a thud, tearing her core to shavings
Maiweeeee! She is puzzled.
His baritone dropping the 'n'
agitation
a wooden scrabble.
Nothing is left between her
and Pee, not a grain
all’s crushed
smothering their screams
interlocking their groans.
He is a pawn, no saphead
giving it to her, a pounding
her splinters
putting him on like a glove
a blood-wood
fragments of his body all over her.
She, a Mortal
(he notes the ‘r’ replacement)
implodes in silence, his pain.
She is deep
no winnowing basket
Her pleas chaff going with the wind
consummating with eyes
but she, too dry to go gunky.
Left to recline in the tree shade, heaves
silent sighs among groundnut sheaves
“You know I l-o-v-e you,”
“Yet it spells p-a-i-n, right?”
“We are just pieces of a g-a-m-e dear,”
he sighs rolling onto his back.
Copyright © Joyce Chigiya | Year Posted 2021
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