Wednesday, April 27, 2011

I'll give you a clue


It’s a deadly game, but taking part
is not optional, I’m afraid. Your
character may vary, minutely or utterly
day to day. You think you’re Miss

Scarlett, but while you slept, Reverend
Green crept into your body, animated
your soul with his own particular blend
of doubt and mistaken belief. You wake

With white hair, and a sense that the past
is replaying itself, has caught up to you,
overtaken, in fact, the same game, only
this time it’s different players or the same faces

in new combinations. Did you dream
your uncle’s face on the cook’s body,
or was it a trick of the light? Who do you
love, anymore, why does everyone look

like you? Attack someone, smear their make-up
obliterate the grease paint, look underneath. Yes,
the mouth is familiar, it tilts the same way yours does
it’s like looking in a mirror, but you can’t tell

who is holding the gun anymore, nor why
it’s smoking, and whether the hole in your chest
is heart shaped, whether the man with the knife
has just saved your life, or is about to take it.

3 comments:

Nikki Magennis said...

This is a very rough one, I just noticed the word 'look' in at least three times. I'll maybe come back to it, though, I like the idea.

Shanna Germain said...

Yowza. Love it. The ending -- wham. Lovely.

Emerald said...

I like it a lot, Nikki—so much so that I didn't even notice the repeat of "look"!