i play this game

because most hate it

keep a card so close to my chest

it leaks a heart to stiff-spine stone

frozen   while my palm   searching tap

is lapping up its public parade

a whip

wishing for an anchor

•

i’ve decided everything   is either cheating

or showing off

and i hate how our god spits   out a spine

where a print-out would suffice

why spend all these thoughts

in the collection plate?

collect them for next winter

nostalgia doesn't feed no ducks

•

there are no win conditions    

the lip edge   the sixth day  

sand

in the play pen

keep sliding one hand

over the other

it all might

stack together