Bill’s Game
In the Egyptian shadows/
where dreams conspire/
bored gamblers/
dance on a wire//
In a perilous game/
scorpions stingers poised/
they twist and prance//
each move a risk/
in the flicker of fate/
they wager their sting/
on the edge of desire/
they twist and spring//
Spiders weave webs/
of luminous thread/
they patiently wait/
to entangle their prey/
a creature of chance/
in a world spun tight/
they craft illusions/
where whispers are fed//
Gambling play/
in the midday sun/
silken entrapment/
v venomous flair/
all bets are down/
for a moment laid bare//
life’s but a game/
full of pleasure and pain/
no wonder Bill gets into/
trouble again//
This is the second in a cycle of poems about my husband's grandad. From his records we know he was busted down a rank for some insubordination. This poem in that respect is a work of fiction imaging the type of trouble he might have got into knowing how he enjoyed gambling.
