There on top --
Worn -- on top,
Where your stroke
Connects and follows
Through the grass,
All the hollows
Measure time
In flakes,
Your defense
Lacquer spent
That had once
Guarded wrong
Cannot remain
For long....
For long
Have I
So handed to you
Offers, gentle
Strokes continued,
When at last
A worried whimper
Smacked and
My opposing goal;
Shaken, dropped
To knees, you
Beg no more...
And neither I
For none have
Through grass
With stick
So worn.

rjw 4/23/96

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