Sevengem

antagonist,
only fools bet against you;
wise investments oppose public demand
(you’re cleverly urged to “break a leg”).

you’ll win no ribbon but the battered strand
wound round your crooked finger,
because you’ve beaten no one.

close your eyes
hold your breath
bob the sour apple

sink your teeth in
pierce the shielding skin
ravage the yielding flesh

now cringe and chase away the taste
because I’ve beaten no one.

silence echoes;
volume mutes.
Schrödinger’s box, coveted
for its promise-laden mystery.
open, ugly head
and rusted guts exposed,
the jack’s afright,
the jack’s a fright.