Any life gets dealt out

in breakneck fortune. 

Coming no other way until,

as day leads on to day,

the desperate holder,

(confusing holding 

for owning 

the whole way)

has no choice,

no chance other

than to give it all away. 

 

Precious holder 

of place and time

knows all this

somewhere, maybe deep

and maybe not,

but certainly silenced by 

skyscraper screens,

sincere eyes caressing 

all there is that preens, 

cave shadow things

that make any story 

telling life was never ours

seem like careless 

make believe. 

 

So shush the children off to bed,

reminding them –

The monster’s name is never said.

​

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