[Ed. note: Simone de Rochefort is contractually allowed to publish one piece of poetry to our website every quarter. Here is her piece for Q4 2017. Polygon apologizes for this necessity, and we thank you for your patience. Also, it would mean a lot to Simone if you read it and shared your feedback — in verse, of course — in the comments.]
As autumn sun bows to winter’s chill,
Grey skies over grey streets smell of rain
And piss which we wish to refrain
From smelling, but there is still a tune which gives a thrill;
It plays in limbo, where we doth kill
Time while choosing a game which we deign
To play in these days when so few hours remain
Before sets the sun, and with it good will.
Here sits a figure from darkest dreams
Silently contemplating, with hollow eyes
The dancing figures, a bony group
And lo! Everything is as it seems
No surprises lurk, on the label no lies
Watch these skeletons dancing in a loop.