E-lone
One hand droning
through Diablo 4,
other puts it on.
A winter glove
spray painted
safety orange.
Fattened fist erupts.
“Stop making me
your puppet!”
He pushes puffed
fingers against
gaudy palm,
whispers Stop
hitting yourself
over and over.
The mitt erupts.
“Stop! Making!
Me! Your! Puppet!”
Palm drawn
to mouth, he
lifts his voice.
You didn’t come
here to fight
did you?
Druid paused,
zipper undone,
strained silence
as he wonders
when an orange
stops being one
and starts being
something else,
something that
rhymes with
Musk? Dusk…
Husk…Tusk…?
No comments:
Post a Comment