No. 2
“No. 2”
Grey as the raven-dark the bullet flies
Destined for a port unseen.
Now, it could be that poker with the gods
Ends in a broken table.
This one bears splinters unseen,
Long and rapier-thin.
Though to wield it requires a skill
She may not yet possess.
One can outrun a police SUV,
Dodge a stray shot now and then;
But what can one do to fight her,
If she herself is wood and steel?
Untouched by time yet frozen,
Words retain yet the power to feel,
To fight her perhaps with a weapon
No device will ever match.
“Yes, perhaps.” She tells you,
“There are worlds unseen,
Where our kind could play ball.
But they are not your world.”
A streetlamp calls to her world,
One of grating things.
You are part of it now, you think,
As wood and steel meet bone and flesh.
