(Deceit and its outcome).
With a favourable wind at your back
and me leant forward, eyes stinging
we, surprised, stumble together.
Once more you peel off another raffle ticket
from your library of lies,
the rest are shuffled together like paper money
banded by the hallmark of your guilty conscience.
But lucky for me, the one I take
slips from my suspicious fingers
thus ruining my afternoon.
As you leave me
with the swagger of a gambler
who can afford to lose her money,
at least today,
you notice the disappointment in my eyes
and re-chalk your cruel bookmaker’s slate
with the long odds of my tortured truth
© Graham Sherwood 11/2011
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