Saturday, November 8, 2014

Poem-A-Day November 1

prompt: game over

On Watching "The Man Who Wanted To Be Bond"

After all, it's War.
You draw lines.
They are erased
by bombs, the wrong
hand on another's
thigh, a delay, that
dalliance, last dance.

We saw curtains
unstuck, her hand
clutching a glass 
shard. She was not
in pieces, a concession
to viewers' sensibilities
in these days war-free.

Without pulse, without
tears for her own loss,
she has left you.

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