Swordfighting
She snaps my sword
(practically in two)
with a parry and a mighty splintering of wood
I go to fetch some masking tape
as she dances in confetti of shrapnel
The camera clicks
and we draw on symbols with eyeliner
We'll do the ears later
- sharpen them to points with a trusty Photoshop brush
that changes us into liquid
I lay my sword to rest
the injuries sustained
no amount of tape can mend
We look solemn for a moment
us liquidised warriors
with drawn on eyebrows and braided hair
Until I brandish a new sword:
freshly picked
and, again, our battle is punctuated
with the sound of parries and photography
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