ssarily the brand name)
... by the handful or cup ...
upon a summer's day,
the mind blur of expensive art.

IV
Blackjack. Three card stud.
The poker-faced look of
many opponents peeling cards
from the bottom of the deck,
some ear-marked for success
with time-honoured stratagems
(& doctored hands) that leave me
reeling (or is it nursing) patent-made regrets.

V
Something primeval about wanting
to trade up your fortune at the
expense of the House. Ambuscades.
Indecision.

VI
Games of chance
the apt metaphor
of our daily roulettes.

WITHIN REACH

There are two images,
a moon within reach
yet trapped under snow--
an old woman's threadbare shawl
with peasants furiously working brooms
scraping ice shavings
into howls and husks of frenzy.

Ii
Then the same pond,
this time summer
with fishing nets,
and briefer shawls
pirating light's wanton swoon,
a spyglass hour moon
all bathed in yellow
colour of kerosene
--a rich creamy butter--
goldilocks let out on weekends
her spun, golden tresses
lowered onto the water
like so many little boats
nimbly hopping aboard.

lii
A kerchief folded on a fence
a man wearing an overcoat living there
in white satin swooning
to the pianist's expert touch
down magic chambers
soothing, soothing there
to fold and tear
the pileated moonlit edge
of her skin.

COUNTESS

The pig's head omelette--
something akin to a tatoo
buried squarely on the upper
torso of the man
wielding an axe,
chopping wood.
Shoulders drooped,
the bizarre rendition
had a female
counterpart
--a snake, fitted like a
fish-net stocking,
coating the upper leg of
the dancer writhing to music,
so soporific,
near the copper shield
of the table,
ever-molten ash,
air-borne with the foetid smear
& puff of cigarette smoke.

COUNTESS II

Imagining the smoke burnt
imprint of a tatoo
with tapers flickering,
the bejewelled gaze a dragon's snout
must bring
or the serpent coil, crimson flame
curl of dashing cobra,
its very fangs drawing
lifeblood from the fleshy
perch in smooth, red scorching.

On the pectorals of a sailor.
Perhaps whiplash of the granite waves,
grim trucker with a "Mother"
grasping chains
that see burly sandbags in place--
hirsute biker, cords of
hair lashing his tattooed