Spring 2016 – Vol. 5
by Jessica Goodfellow


Rock. Paper. Scissors.

Mountain. Snow. Death.


Snow beats mountain

by shrouding it in white.


Death beats snow 

by taking away its prisoners.


Mountain beats death,

outlasting it and its memory.


Nothing beats everything.

Around and around it goes—


a braid of bad reckoning,

a lasso of logic, a noose.


I wrote this poem on paper. 

Paper beats memory beats death


but not for long—

only until paper crumbles


or memory’s vessel collapses.

Paper is perhaps better creased


into a blindfold, an aid against

beholding the inevitable.


And yet isn’t that redundant, since

in our game of rock/ paper/ scissors/ 


mountain/ snow/ death/

in our tournament of intransitivity,


our omnipotent opponent is 

the already invisible fist of god?