Duel

Face to face at dawn,

It smiles;

LeeRing at me with typeset teeth

And inkEd breath.

Boundaries are drawn, weaPons chosen.

I—armed with

A splinted paleTte of swirled metaphors,

Which glimmered in the paDded desk light of

Late last eVening—

Fling them out with a spLatter …

They dRy up in mud-colored splotches, peeling

on the blaNk page.

Thrust and parRy, white fingers jabBing,

(Thought you could sLip in a seMi-colon;

DiDn’t you?)

Cut and snip, clitTer-claTter,

Firing off explosive rounds of ammuNition.

Exhausted, I fall back into the

Frumpled mouse nestle of twined sheets,

With only the scattered limbs of words

To mark the confrontation.