The Racquetball King and the One Who Wouldn’t Be Queen

The racquetball king strolls from a match easily won

His skill with a racket and rubber ball caught
the attention of many, but it was the girl,

with a dead heart, that he desired.
She stood in the middle of a field of fire.
Everything about her was stoic like
she had been caught in Medusa’s gaze.

The racquetball king just couldn’t stand
the view. He used his favorite racket and his back-up
to part an ocean from Hades of combustible lust.

In the middle of the inferno, the girl with the dead heart
laughed at the way he frantically tried to save her.

The back-up racket started to melt, rain came down
as if the mortal’s hellish battle had been blessed by Zeus.

The racquetball king bowed in acknowledgment.
The girl of his desires, dead heart not pounding,
gave the middle finger up to the heavens.

She then pulled a shriveled mass from her pocket and
handed it to the racquetball king. She kissed him on

the cheek, stepped back, collapsed, became soil.