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by Rob Littler

I know you best
In the dark black
Of night—how you sweat

Even the most minute
Detail, muttering about never
Having time forever and everything

Else, but the already-pledged, the
Sale-already-made. How many
Times have you made a man

Take aim, dressed in fur, antlers
Knocking like wind chimes—
Playing only if you are the game.


Posted on 10/31/2020
Copyright © 2021 Rob Littler

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 10/31/20 at 10:28 PM

Quite the images here. Loved the "antlers knocking like wind chimes."

Posted by Johanna May on 11/20/20 at 11:18 PM

Fidelity caused by love, that last line. My kind of poem.

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