Chalk marks on his board
of living days and deeds seen.
Your progress towards the open end
of death judgement and oblivion.
Each soft touch taken or given
another meaningless scratch is riven
in the depths of black or white.
Each gentle word heard or unheard
but spoken nonetheless to curse or bless
and chalk scrapes marks
in boxes bright or dark.
The Tallyman records the mark
is ever fair, unpartisan he doesn’t care
if you win or lose, he records you choose.
And in the end the columns tote
reflect the lies of good or bad
in your own eyes for he just
marks the board and keeps the score.
© Dave Kavanagh @ daithiocaomanaigh.com