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LADY LUCK

Cynthia Ruth Lewis

It had been that kind of morning:
the pelvic cramping and blood spotting
warning me of a possible loss

I wanted to turn down our big trip to Reno;
we’d planned months in advance for it
mapping our course, saving our money,
hoping to hit it big to dig us out of
the hole we were in, never expecting
a third person to come along for the ride

I didn’t think I should go--thought I
should stay off my feet, knowing there
might still be a chance to redeem, however
slim, but I give in, sitting motionless
in the car; quiet, watching life slip by
through the window--you, even unaware of
the situation, chatter endlessly on,
taking my silence as mere trepidation
of losing

The casino looms like an all-knowing
demon. I follow you, unseeing, through
the overly-bright building, hearing coins
dropping, bells ringing, everybody happy
and carefree, and me, knowing there would
be no sense in fighting a battle already
halfway lost, walking freely amongst the
happy people, a murderer of hope, a bucket
of coins clutched tight in my sweating
grasp, abusing each precious moment,
eventually pushing the coin through the
slot, pulling the lever, taking my
chances, knowing the ball had already
dropped, now rolling completely beyond
reach, no stopping at all
no going back



Scars Publications


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