Poem: “Riposte?”

Riposte?

He has none.

Close-lipped

Like a mackerel

No patience for rhetoric

Or debate or grammar—

His notions are minimal

No equation buys

Him security now.

His fingers tap out

Code no one knows.

Alone, he smiles,

Then gasps for breath.

There’s no exit

No apology possible.

Prepare the altar.

We have our meal.

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