His eyes gleamed
His forehead furrowed
He smiled a crooked smile
They said, “Your pick”
There was a crackle of notes
And a jingle of coins
He licked his lips
The ice was melting
He took a quick sip
They dealt
He played
The cigarette was stubbed
The pack was rubbed
Eyes narrowed
He shuffled
With a flourish
He dealt
The Pack of Lies.
©Deepak Manchanda
This was written in 1967
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem