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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
Written by Kexby (john rickell)
Published
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