Gambler’s Last Dream
after Kenneth Rexroth’s “Gambling”
Images of them splinter his dreams.
Thick smoke limps from the quick whip
In lightning. Face cards fall dead
Clubs or hearts bring the same.
This nightly dive into them splashes red
Into tall stacked chips. He folds a pair.
Can’t he tell they smell the gin in his hair.
The clock talks of thunder dropping on glass
Idiot end, one lady. He sips wine and dread.
Can he catch a crown in a game of breaks?
The hand shakes all in with two ginger faces.
Indelibly sweet fully vested they, both aces.
best he can hope for is to die before he wakes.
7 thoughts on "Gambler’s Last Dream"
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just the right amount of dreamspeak here.
Your rhymes are a straight flush. Love the “can’t he tell they smell the gin in his hair.” Subtle details that give flesh to the whole.
Great sounds in this poem. I love the hiss and pop of “Thick smoke limps from the quick whip…”
Cool poem!
Love the rhythm of this poem, especially it’s repeated vowel sounds.
this reeks of gin in my hair, er, um, i mean salient imagery
1984 …. ginnis used as a metaphor for control.
The original poem had “chemical”
so i put the gin to indicate the patriarchal desire for control.