Politician’s Lament
© Joshua Chalifour, 6 October 2008
I got something the other day.
After a glass of x knows what
and four men had to haul the
logs out of the corner, we
all might say we got something—
But really, it was I, I got it.
It started when the king fell
over. "No way to play chess"
I said,
referring mostly to myself.
But I hadn't pushed him
and indeed not a single other
game had finished,
so they said. I saw a
few pretty close to that
viperously invisible path,
which just grows .
That's why I thought, I'd go
chopping—chopping up growth and piling it somewhere to use later.
someone writes redly in books about that sort of thing.
The leaves fell, big, while
I chopped.
Soon kings slumped,
their strong trunks
chinked, their roots grappling
far underground, supporting
what wouldn't need support.
Or did the roots hold
Earth to its spacey sheets?
I stacked the logs for later
as I mentioned, in the corner, and propped myself
at their base, unsure
who else had seen them;
so many.
I heard the kings whisper,
"That was someone else's
strategy."
This was published here on Monday, 6 October 2008 at 21:29 and is filed under Poem.
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