by kholinar

As anyone who’s everyone should know,
He swings the trees with lanyards as he goes
And topples poles with war saws strung to frogs
A dab of clove and ginger keep him strong

He plays the Spades with his sad friend, the Vole
The furry one who hangs about the knoll.
But bets just sink him deeper under debt
And pepper life with mugwort and regret.

He masters poker’s origami folds
Throws them down with gusto, crane and toad
Bets it all then sets upon the crease
In loss only creation brings him peace.