Contention

The key :

To be the last to pump the hold
of rain that falls
like brutal flint
that would crush the rich and crack the puzzle

To ooze power and then dash to bed -
parallel maniacs
breathless in a veneer of triumph

To envision only good omens this night -
the Devil thrashed
the Fox all nerves
hands to front
burning
slashed

To imagine a gulf reclaimed
with palms clenched in paradox

To eat all said words and grand intentions
yet still ignite the timid creature that is Hope

To feel the pulse in vitals, blood and gore

To ride the mood electric
and
through motion and inertia

to wake

to face the real

with a prayer