deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Poker Players
Poker players at the table
distrust in every limb,
cards face down,
not a smile between them,
scowling lips, half closed eyes
every Friday night the same.
Silent as a morgue no clink of glasses
the green baize cloth's passive turf
virgin as the playing cards,
watch the changing fortunes,
losers skulking home
distrust in every limb,
cards face down,
not a smile between them,
scowling lips, half closed eyes
every Friday night the same.
Silent as a morgue no clink of glasses
the green baize cloth's passive turf
virgin as the playing cards,
watch the changing fortunes,
losers skulking home
Published 21st Aug 2013
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21st Aug 2013 2:04pm
21st Aug 2013 6:21pm
