Pac-Man On His Deathbed
(With apologies to William Carlos Williams)
Dear Inky, Blinky, Pinky and Clyde,
I’m sorry for chewing you more times
than I’ve had relationships. Forgive me,
the cherries were so sweet and so cold
they made me forget about Ms Pac-Man
who threw me out of the arcade machine
of our marriage like a broken wheelbarrow.
No emoji can express how I feel.
My heart never fizzed like pound store
champagne after I’d beaten one score
after another. All I wanted was to be held
and not feel like slipping through someone
for once. There is no prescription for pain.
What hurts, hurts. All you can do
at the end of the day is cradle the remains
of your heart in your hands and pray
another day will come like the quarters
flowing into the game. Thanks
for being there.
Christian Ward is a UK-based writer who has recently appeared in Open Minds Quarterly, Double Speak, Obsessed with Pipework, Primeval Monster, Clade Song, Uppagus, and BlueHouse Journal.