Playing for Keeps

by Bill Yarrow

I woke like an animal
breeding thoughts like flies,
my arms loaves of bread,
my eyes cups of milk.
"Set the sawdust, I'm
hungry for locusts."
They never appeared.
I ran grumbling
for shrubbery. Gone!
The colors have no money left.
The world was a leaf
at the cockpit of dust.
I screamed and it shattered.
Water poured through me.
I ran, a crazed rabbit.
Shots rang out from the bunker
ocean. I was laid low
by the shrapnel of design.