Side to side
he bounces
a shiny pinball
ricocheting
bumper to bumper
We can’t take our eyes away
Around him they frantically
work the flippers
try to discreetly jiggle the table
nudge bump nudge
but in the end he glances off
one surface angles
onto another I’m the best,
believe me as he bounces from
a red bumper the best
as he hits a wall
not in control, but neither is
anyone else
They keep trying
hoping not to set off
a flashing TILT TILT
GAME OVER
with yet another insider
bounced
so sad
Phyllis Wax writes in Milwaukee on a bluff overlooking Lake Michigan. Among the anthologies and journals in which her poetry has appeared are: The Widows’ Handbook, Birdsong, Spillway, Peacock Journal, Surreal Poetics, Naugatuck River Review, TheNewVerse.News, Portside, Star 82 Review. A Best of the Net and Pushcart Prize nominee, she has read in coffee houses, bars, libraries and on the radio. Her work has been exhibited with art quilts and weavings in a variety of venues around the state of Wisconsin as part of four poet/fiber artist collaborations.
