I don't have much <br />That I can claim- <br />Just an old brush <br />With half the bristles gone, <br />A toothbrush, a clean shirt or two. <br />One jar of soap given, I think <br />As a present <br />Two Christmases ago <br />By some women's group <br />That brought fruity punch- <br />Not the beer we'd asked for. <br /> <br />I could all fit it <br />In a child's shoe box, this big, <br />I'd guess and, oh yes, <br />My playing cards <br />A blue rider deck <br />With a few edges bent back. <br />I stuck my cards <br />Down deep in my pants when Charley <br />Wouldn't stop. He pleaded softly <br />With fish-cold eyes and quivering lip. <br />Relenting, I let him <br />Play, stupid fool <br />Bent the deck again. <br /> <br />Best friends, they are <br />The cards I mean, <br />They talk to me at night. <br />Mostly the Red Queen of Hearts begs <br />Me please, keep the Black King spades <br />Away from my petticoats, he <br />Rapes me nightly, <br />Under the cover of the Red Ten Heart. <br />Her children weep <br />And I can't stand their wails. <br />So I took the Black King Spade <br />And burned him good- <br />One night just as he had <br />Lifted her skirts and peeked beneath. <br />He wiggled and screamed before <br />He vanished in the blacken smoke. <br /> <br />Charlie and me <br />Still play Hearts and Spades <br />With one card short. <br />But Charlie doesn't seem <br />To mind. But still I yell <br />As he bends the edges <br />To keep his place, I suspect, <br />But the cards groan as I retrieve the <br />Deck and the wailing <br />Has begun again.<br /><br />Charlotte Ballard<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/playing-cards-3/
