The Game

By Cynthia Winn

The cliche suffices.

It ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.

The rules demand a lightness of heart

I don’t possess.

A callow disregard for the hungers

of the soul.

The masquerades complete.

When you play the game.

The rules are always bright and gay.

The Muzak of your mind.

While reality slips and dips from your grasp

in many voices.

“Know me” is a biblical term.

When you play the game.

But what about that other need?

The hunger to be all that one can be?

The game forbids a stronger desire.

And loneliness loses points.

It’s as brittle as your heart.

When you play the game.

– Cynthia Winn lives in Lawrence.