Gambling Deal Poem by maria goodison

I've had enough of this twisted land the one that I call home it
does not matter if your pants are on fire.
You'll never know the deal, the jacks are height and the whisk dry.
The sick stains on the wall, forgotten roll of the diced in hope
snake eyes doesn't show, the queens are bad but she sits there
all highly in the know.
This twisted mind just one more time and another and another till
you can't go anymore.
The round and around of the roulette table, that game the Chinese plays
that no one wants to join, the price to high with a kidney and a eye.
The hatred in your eyes, how I wish to Plow Throw the table and rip
that bow tie off you.
How this waterfall troubled and gold fish dead but no one seem any
wiser, they fling their coins and wedding rings to make the dealer cut.
How funny that this last bit is as you see grown men cry, the wedding rings gone but the wife in the wrong, if only they had just one more pound and
it's bound to be different this time round.