This poem is presented in its rough draft form for the PAD 2022 challenge and will be revised.
Poetic Form: Sestina
“What Happens Here, Stays Here”
The lights blind you from the dis-content
of people’s lives. A grandma, pumping
a slot machine’s handle. Hoping to double
the jackpot of nickels. Desires guide
her to this moment when chance and fate meet.
But the owner is the one wearing a suit.
He holds the Jack in all suits.
He knows the hand should make him content.
Yet, the next draw could allow him to meet
the Joker. His veins pulse as hope pumps
through his thoughts. The dealer’s look guides
his voice while moving the chips to double.
The level of noise doubles
as a group, looking the nines, in suits.
The glasses and bottles in their hands guide
them across the crowded floor. Content
on ignoring those around them, fist pumps
ricochet as their lonesomeness meet.
They stand holding hands, waiting to meet
the witness, outside large pink double
doors. Even though doubt is pumping
through both of their hearts, he is in a suit
and her, a simple white dress. Life can be content
she hopes. He will let his insecurity be the guide.
He places his hands on the shoulder, guides
the wide eyed boy out a side door to meet
the supplier. Soon that boy will feel content
or so he believes. Not knowing the cost is double
after hit one. Addiction is not a simple suit
you remove when the ER performs a stomach pump.
She is wearing glitter and four inch pumps
Dreams of big screens and gold awards guide
her across the predatory stare of the suit
that promised a chance to shine and meet
her future behind the lens, but it is a double
exposure film. She’s shattered by the viewer’s content.
The lights burn with content, the neon pumps
through our double vision. Unhappiness guides
our troubles to meet the devil in a suit.
No comments:
Post a Comment