She played the pokies in her day,
her singular gaze unflinching
and intractably admiring.
The stars and bells, her friends;
a gentle, constant riot of affection
and affectation, pleading to stay
and coaxing her with opium overtures
of digitised ecstasy.
The hours flew by until the credit expired
and she was begging for more,
cashing nameless cheques
and selling recently acquired
electrical and white goods
(no questions asked)
in a whirlpool of hypocrisy.
The pokies called to her,
like sirens on a cold and callous sea,
the daughters of Achelous
pleading for her return,
tempting her with short-term solutions
and promises of fools’ good.
How could she resist?
Just one more spin of the wheels
and fabled misfortune awaited.
How many more lines would she cross,
how many more lies would she tell
to ensure the opulent beasts
remained her constant companions?
These friends were never-lasting,
because the all too-plentiful machines,
as sensual as they might seem,
gave far less love
than they received
and in the end
for the next
My first wife was a compulsive gambler. It was not a pleasant time in my life, and is not fondly remembered. But it is remembered, by me, at least.
For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first book, available at most online book sellers in print or e-book formats.
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