Tonight's Poet Corner: Championship

Championship
by Belinda Roddie

Did we win? I think the gold
has melted into the creases
of our fortune teller life lines -
how this taints our futures, no
one can really safely say.

You've drunk silver before,
danced until the sun bronzed
your skin, and I, poor soul,
was like the Tin Man, bereft
of a heart, until you kissed me
and reminded me of what beat
beneath my ivory cradle.

Did we win, after all, the
precious metal of our romance?
Was our victory sweet enough to
sate the sour stain on flopping tongues?
Was our magic trick impressive enough
to trick almost everyone?
Did we manage to fool the masses?
Did we win?

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