Iambic


She speaks in silkless rhythms, cold and true
never a kind or good word spoke aloud
But her eyelids open for me, and I
Sit up and listen like a shy student

In every book, on every shelf, she lives
and breathes for the sudden denouement of
heroes who fight alone, against the world
because, she says, “No one ever wins life.”

I nod, I know, because I can’t deny
that loving is another way to lose
and in her brief novella I’m just one
more minor plot thread that she’ll unravel

Yet, hear, in her presence, my heart beating
ba dum, ba dum, ba dum, ba dum, ba dum

Little Drummer Girl

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