Olivia Finley

He drinks in the night,
and the stars leave his
eyes, replaced
by a smoky dullness.

Like a voodoo man,
he hopes his future
rests in the cards
he knows too well.

He bets on a full
house, but goes home lonely
every night. A straight
comes his way, but his
heart remains tangled.

He goes all in,
bluffing to the last,
never having learned
life lies outside his hands.

©2012 This work is the property of the author.


Posted on May 21, 2012, in Olivia Finley, POETRY and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. 3 Comments.

  1. Olivia has sent in a couple of poems. This is the first.

  2. I don’t bet, but then I don’t think this has anything to do with betting. Maybe more about drowning out life and then not seeing the signs that would help one to escape a smoky dullness. But then it may whisper to you in another way.

  3. Someone who refuses Pascal’s wager for a scene out of Visconti’s “The Damned” , Goethe’s
    Faust, Fassbender’s Weimar or post-war films or Dostoyevsky’s “The Gambler ” this guy
    may be betting on the joker.

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