Poem of the Day, April 12: "Dice Roll Round the Heart"

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Summary: Continuing my poem of the day, this one also continues my horror theme.

BLOT: (12 Apr 2016 - 09:42:55 PM)

Poem of the Day, April 12: "Dice Roll Round the Heart"

Another day, another poem. Wasn't sure what I was going to write until I sat down and the phrase, "dice roll around the heart," came to me, and then I tried to think how to turn that into a horror concept. Not 100% satisfied by this one, but I will keep to the rule and not edit it until the beginning of May. And sure, maybe this is all a metaphor...you know.

"Dice Roll Around the Heart"

Dice roll around the heart - pips and beats and blood -
And this random chance feels like mandate's expression,
A choice made, either way, by destiny's own hand.
Should she be free, or contained, like a prized possession,
For such a short time, like a rose wilting in a vase?
Should she have her own name, her own fate, her own face
To wear with her eyes and teeth and nose and smile?
Or should she be forced, like clay into a potter's kiln,
To bake into a shape fit for pouring water in?
Boxcars or snake eyes, these games the heart plays
As it decides which approach to take with her,
Should she live, or should she die? In pleasure or in fright?
She runs, faster now, but never fast enough. Turns corners,
Hoping to flee, my shadow finds her wherever she hides.
She strikes out at me, a feeble blow, I take her hand
And crack her thumb. She screams out my name,
"Oh, God, please!?" And it is true, I am for a moment
Satiated standing there, holding her, gripping her weakness,
And wondering what to do with it, but those dice roll,
They roll and roll, and eventually they find a spot.
I look her in the soul, smile my own while,
The dice have removed any of my worrisome doubt.
When her own dice have ceased to play, I lay her
Like clothes on the street. She drinks me in, finally complete.
The moonlight burns a hole in the skin of the night.
Maybe there was a third option, but I know it not,
I wonder what it could have been. Another notch,
Another choice. I go off to find another, to choose again.


Written by Doug Bolden

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