The ones I loved
The ones I wanted
The ones I lusted

All could give a
flying fig
for me

a history of

chasing men
who had been
nothing but
back alley
beggar boys
sneakily dressed
in much
fancier clothing
just
(faintly squint)
a tiny bit
too large
for their
diminutive
frames

all whilst
my woman’s heart,
devotion,
and
hunger
had remained
far more feeling,
staunch,
and ravenous

And like dominoes

I kept queuing
them up

Each had
been
placed
and
balanced,
precariously
forming that tenuous line
of repeated
fowls and
heartaches.

the fickleness
of the foolish

a test of my
patience

Until I
came to realize
this was
far more trouble
than it
was worth

weary sigh
head tilted
my finger gave
the smallest
poke
to the very first
pip

and

The quiet rhythmic
clacking

soothed

the
*click
*click
*click
of each
falling into the
other

closure,

leaving
a flawless
mess…
a pile
of ivory rectangles
pieces
with no
discernible match

Gingerly,
with care
and reverence

I placed each tenderly
within the case

This was a game
I no longer
cared to play.