I.

        I would go to war to defend my positions, he said.

        The room breaks out in laughter.

        It is a small room. There are no windows. A man
        Pulls on a leash.

        Dual extraction farms spring up: crawfish
        Feed on rice not fit
        For human consumption.

        The frail dog chases a few
        Dustbunnies. An auction is about to begin.

        A steady throbbing light illuminated the scene, shadows,
        Skeletons of white and air

        II.

        Of course, I would. No other reason on earth,
        Except to know that I am right.

        Stopping only to refuel, to touch the powerlines, to drop
        A grand on seven. All letters are carefully written,
        With an eye
        Toward immortality. Or at least a mention.

        Whatever happens
        Next

        Depends on

        III.

        Whatever makes you say that.

        There are seven laundered shirts in the carry-on.

        IV.

        What we know of the dark.
        A hard wind pushes, pushes.
        There's no end in their sights.
        There exists the possibility
        The great man will find
        A soft woman, not in love with him,
        Therefore not
        Vulnerable, but what if the story fails
        Here and the leash wraps 'round
        Another man's wrist. Seven blocks,
        Even downhill, is a long way to crawl.

Copyright © Claudia K. Grinnell, 2004. All Rights Reserved.