games

i feel sad,
and the blankets
crumpled at my knees
are cozy and serious.

yesterday was my birthday.

she’s back in the ring of things,
gloves off, ready to fight.
is she crying? or is it sweat?
i never could tell
except for up close.

i hate watching
her feel it,
the attack.
somewhere near,
tightening edges
careful sidesteps
loose and desperate lunges.
contact at last, and
a crowd,
roaring.

i sigh, turn my phone off,
and slide further under the blankets.

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