To Chris Ferguson
You’re dressed in black from hat to heel, handlebars smearing your lip.
The felt table reflects off of your coal eyes, orbs beaming out from brim’s shadow.
You’re defining poker face, a card shark avenger with teeth bared.
Catch the scent of two pair blood and your neck snaps, cold stare fixes on me;
your first movement sends a wave through the sea of green.
It’s wake bounces off the bright lights and my body rolls a reaction.
Caught in your cold stare, suspended in deep water, I can’t move.
I hold my breath squeeze shut my eyes hope you don’t see through me.
But with a flick of tail you push your chips at me in attack.
Your teeth sink, force holes through my hands, rip at my skin.
Shake me around like a doll, I’m bobbing out of control,
losing sight of any light and choking on bluffed water.
You toss me back on the shore, a ragged bones version of myself.
I faced you and your black water magic: it was a show down stand off all in
And you read my mind.
