Vignettes from the game

                                                                              (with commentary)

I think she’s playing me, he said

But what’s the game, and what’s the prize?

And have I even thought, clear eyed

Of what is is I’m after?

Deep within, beneath the game

The spring of strong desire is wound

We love the way it makes us bound

And we’re compelled to try to find 

The way to make our lives align

With all its pent up need to move.

He circles her, he seems to meditate

He dances with some others, but his eyes

Keep turning back: this time, if I approach

Will she allow me to come close?

And yet what leaps must land

Perhaps in some place wild, unplanned

And maybe many weary miles from home

And maybe, so the fear is, all alone

And torn and damaged.  Ah, so this is why

We stand alone and hesitate to play.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 9, 2011