BARRACUDA DECISION
written by: R. Bremner
for Sylvia Plath
The door was locked;
white wine incense
draped the table.
Feeding on our youth,
a supper of wit,
we dined,
occasionally pausing
to say grace beneath the table.
From outside the silver dining room,
echoing off the walls
in the halls of the sterile palace,
computer banjos
spewed rueful tunes
of monogrammed secrecy.
Singular incest
was the rule of the hour
for those who would play the game
properly.
I wanted to play, I think,
(did you?)
till you explained
the player’s entry fee
disguised till the final whistle blows.
So go back to chewing your bubblegum
or whatever you do nowadays;
I’ll bust open the locked door
with one good strong kick.
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