Sore Loser Poem by MARINA GIPPS

My one friend playing
games with me
of monopoly. I resented
the money

spent on him,
my plastic home
and tin horses of
holiday blizzards
wrapped in a red bow.

The rigid thimble
of the game
sheltered my tender thumb
as he sent me to jail.

He was
a tall judge hovering over
Me.

He was
Hammering my golden
heart with his rattling
gown of thick black-

The gift melted into a halloween
without the orange treat,
only the quick tricks turning
on the darkened streets.