THE MASOCHIST

 

I am a masochist, she said, hands

gripped tighter than footballs,

legs trying to burrow beneath floor

 

oh, I replied, noting the anxiety, need

for relief from contentment, the

boring integers

 

she began sinking,

not much time left for a fix,

in consolation I winked once, twice

 

before departing I watch her

take those winks and jab them

into her eyes like fishhooks

Gary Robinson lives in Ottawa, Ontario, and enjoys writing poetry, short stories and plays.

Dance to Death, Issue II

©2008 Sorrowland Press and all respective artists within.