by Raphael Moser
A bright or dark night, a dark or bright day.
The cues were more legible to her than the words.
He sat up abruptly by the tone of his voice, because
The words in her story spelled out intervention
The sound of indefatigable nonsense
Preening before the wager.
He was a goat
And she was stricken, by all accounts except her own
The radio still hit strategic points like pepper on a sandwich.
Her interruptions seemed misappropriated
Capital removed from economies, the creaking panopticon
Dogs howling at the grease stained precipice.
But why deceive yourself in this manner
The sun is up, a smile is extended
The future cannot be determined from the past.