Night Court

Tonight I am an asymptote, approaching
levelness, but not quite achieving it.
Because I tried to mend the fence,
I tried to make nice, I extended an olive
branch by sending two texts at first,
and then phoning, leaving two conciliatory
messages, saying good things like, “I think
the world of you,” and, “I regret the events
of the last two days” [a lover’s spat wherein
temper was lost (mine) and where insults
appeared in text (hers) ] and this and that,
an allotrope of emotions, good, bad, up,
down, inside out, sideways--forming in
the minds of two nighttime ships...but
like anionic particles that wend the
microscopic world,
I feel the charge as she no doubt also
feels the charge, yet text was all she sent
(apology all right, yet cold is script without
a voice, and thus I called, but got no voice...)
an olive branch begins to wilt as sun has
set and silence reigns.  Henceforth
I steam
and now there is arraignment here,
(trust was so misplaced), thinking
apology is flimsy wobbly specter.
Ignoring is crude in rusted drums.
Ignorance, or cowardice?  I know
not which, but either one
is enough to convict.


30 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
4-16-16
______

Requirements
--asymptote
--allotrope
--anionic
--arraignment