Call it, and Fold
She had an ace of spades held close to her breast,
and below her flaccid eyes was the darkness of fatigue.
If she had not been up all night,
the sharks wouldn't smell her blood.
The End
2 COMMENTS ABOUT THIS POEM Feed
THE GOODS
You're currently reading the poem
Call it, and Fold, which
was posted on Apr 23, 2010 by
Sonny.
This is a solo poem.
About this poem
"A flaccid poker face."
This poem is filed under:
Character
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