A Dual
He intends to challenge you
Has thrown down the gauntlet
Vitriol the weapon, a face slap
I am the go-between, the help-meet
And spectator
I sign treaties
Running with the dawn
Gunmetal grey mists
Layer upon layer, a mille feux
Shards of early motes
Watered in pastels, shot silks
Pale lilac and gold.
Look at him pacing his own stage
His small corner, his fifteen minutes
He has poisoned me with innuendo
Red matador words
Lying in the long grass
Whispering and keening
Like a lover
I am imprinted there
And the bell tower clock leans and listens
The long dark eye of the doe casts down
The stricken north winds whine
The curtain falls.
Copyright © Diane Arthur | Year Posted 2007
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