Reification
It took a while to make it clear.
The cold weather, and the fire
he used to alleviate it
were almost gone, even
before any clarification had been achieved.
But now, without even moving
from his chair he knew
that the box of chocolates on the table
was no decoration, but a gift
from the spirit of abstract
destructiveness
made material in order
to eat away his ability to survive
another day, another incisive blow,
and here he was, as degenerate
as those he was so quick to demean,
fallen down into the abyss.
But now, at least, he was aware
that all the pretty bowls
and the temptations they contained
could actually be held off
another hour, another day,
and it would even be
his choice, his decision,
truly,
a spit in the eye of the devil
who sat opposite him,
and had given him that box,
to whom he could now say, you see,
I don’t give a damn;
It’s my life,
and I can do with it as I please