Francis Santaquilani


Games - Poem by Francis Santaquilani

We have these games.

I watch, you play.

It's the order of things.

As it should be.

It's always felt right.

It's good.

It's the routine.

There must always be a next game.

Winning doesn't matter.

How can it not carry on into eternity

When love is at its core?

It's what I've always wanted,

And what you've always known.

I grow cold from head to foot

When I think of the void left,

In this world

Or the next,

If the games end.

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Comments about Games by Francis Santaquilani

  • (3/31/2010 3:05:00 PM)

    Like the discomfiting questioning in this.. -c (Report)Reply

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Poem Edited: Wednesday, February 17, 2010


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