The After-Drop Glow

The screen glows blue in evening’s hold,A headset world against the cold.My thumbs find rhythm, worn and sure,On controller-plains we wage this war.

Verdansk’s dust or Caldera’s green,The deadliest circle I’ve ever seen.A heartbeat hush, a held-down breath,The quiet tension just before death.

Then crack of shots from who-knows-where,A frantic scramble through the air.A looting rush, a plate’s…