THE CIRCLE GAME

                           black olive, dotted
                    beak, her vacant
               eye a semi-colon
            black olive, the name we
          brought into existence
      by pure belligerent
    chance
  once I had a palmful
of chrysalises, smushed
cigarettes,
chili
 flakes, & now
  you—
    a full duck
      is a black hole, or
                a satsuma
                                           wig
                                                            counting out circles in
                                                                           place & mind
                                                                                the ellipsis
                                                                              of this polo
                                                                shirt, golden indent
                                                                   of a belly-button
                                                                                        &
                                            my crescent fingers, touching
                                                                   makes a void
                                                            below the waist
                                                                           ha,

                                                     you lose