The Party after You Left

The day we partied
the air was yellow, dramatic
like dust from old theater curtains.
Inside was faint music: frantic dancing,

everyone one beat off.

It was because of the sociopath, frankly.
He came from behind the trees,
cumin-colored with burnt lime leaves,
in the draft before fire.

Praise words fell from his mouth,
his eyes were sweet.
But one thing
you do not want to do to a sociopath
is befriend him.

They are like fire: In them hardly anything is visible.
Certainly not the future, which has been blotted out.

Already he moves close to that girl
who is not at all a child anymore.
No one thinks to protect her
as she reaches blindly to touch his face.

Merridawn Duckler is a poet and playwright from Portland, Oregon, with forthcoming and previously published work. Her most interesting current forthcoming is a homemade ritual that appears in the Yoko Ono/Fluxus tribute anthology from Nerve Lantern.

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