Playing the Odds

Bodies pile into steel coffins
to be dragged over horizons,
slow to the distance,
seated wherever there is space.

Drivers with dropping eyes
count the clicks, one, two,
sleeper after sleeper,
rattling miles, time stretched on rails.

Cold platforms wait, painting
delays in the cloud of dark,
grumbles obscured by a wall
of silence, and missing guards.

Finally, one green replaces
another, emblazoned with the
pride of arrogance from
the gambling man’s hand.

Bodies pile into steel coffins
to be dragged over horizons,
slow to the distance,
seated wherever there is space.

playing-the-odds

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