Cackling, he beams at me
sniffing out my weaknesses
Achilles' heels he fancies
he can gouge and poke with words
My silence at his jesting
only proves his vaunted gnosis
that my peace mongering reasonings
cannot withstand his manhood
"If you kill it, you should eat it."
Touche! He has an answer
directed at my father
to prove my incapacity
to know the works of men
He chortles in his victory
greeted by our silence
believing he has won the duel
and earned my quiet forfeit
Unknowing that my words
issued from four sealed lips
and in games with just one player
the winner is the loser
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