a glimmer isn't coming
your hand held steady not tipped
silence--others watching
your cards close to your chest
stoic, no twitch or tremor
never betraying what you hold
the stakes are slowly building
my ante will not come
one more chance to beat you
one more winner take all
I look at the flush you dealt me
and then I quickly fold
Poetry by M.J.B. is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License
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