Night holds the last opportunity
In fitted sheets that don’t fit properly,
Permitting cold air to reach skin
that demands its own hair stand erect.
Over and over the persistent ivory
DAngling from antiques,
like a lynch execution from 1925,
Wraps itself around the limbs
As vines do with branches –
Intertwined and precise happenings,
Leaving scars that expose moments
Intended to be kept in boxes
Beneath the wooden frame
Which shapes the way we sleep.
Is it true that The Game ends when the British Prime Minister announces on television
'The Game is over'?