Forfeit

This is not what we do in

our four plastered walls: get

blinded by neon generation or

tired long plodding. Bring

ourselves to fruition in

game playing or cling

anymore to precarious fragments.

We do not dread. Do not wonder at. Do

not hold dear the too costly forfeit.

Do not remember.

Do not resurrect the memories

formerly held close. Do not recall

the stacked years on my dresser

top, scratched through the lacquer

from pushing, pushing them

around. Do not speak. Do

not continue to construct either

the dead sea of silence that our

love quickly hollowed out into.

Our chasm, the abyss, the gorge,

the valley, locked in my room,

locked for so long so tightly shut

is open now. Is open now. Is

open now. The long gash now

wide-made, now open sprung,

now hollow and empty, a place

where nothing goes.

--RFRY, 19 Jul 06, a reimagining of Susan's Forfeit