By: Nerodia Posted on: August 31, 2006
In a hazy room in the Dancing Boar in Cyrene, Tatalia, the roulette attendant
takes bets with cheerful patience. This poem takes the form of a villanelle.
I close my eyes. My mind begins to reel,
Assaulted by the fragrant wisps of smoke.
And with a wink, Tatalia turns the wheel.
To my right, a gambler strikes a deal
With me, gums his pipe and takes a toke.
I close my eyes. My mind begins to reel.
What is this sensation that I feel?
I reach my hand into my sodden cloak.
And with a wink, Tatalia turns the wheel.
As light glints off the slowly spinning creel,
The silver ball skips another spoke.
I close my eyes; my mind begins to reel.
The blonde attendant smiles her appeal
As I try and fail to make a joke.
And with a wink, Tatalia turns the wheel.
My stomach threatens to dislodge my meal
When I see that I am finally broke.
I close my eyes. My mind begins to reel.
And with a wink, Tatalia turns the wheel.