We took turns at holding the knife
|We took turns at holding the knife|
Like two players from Westside.
I acted like a Liberated Woman.
You made your exit as the graceless,
But you held the knife first, making you the prime culprit my dear
Because, as you once explained to me
Playground rules never disappear, they just hide in the thickets.
We think of chance as a spiky persuasion.
A fleeting shooting star, a once in a lifetime affair.
Yet being the daughter of randomness, having that chaotic lineage
Means that chance is often an actor in a small production,
Forced to stage many guises.
So when you contacted mid-winter hungering
For our last renedezvous or perhaps recapturing what still remains
I should have felt the tide turning.
I should have listened to my heart.
We took turns in holding the knife.
Our pride took care of the rest.