Number of Ways Poem

Seven Ways of Looking at Dice

I
Within calloused hands
and sweaty palms,
folded over each other
in a sense of
desperation.

II
To the greedy and the sinful,
the transparent cubes
covered in dots
were their savior
soon to be robber.

III
To a family of four
across the table, a board
decorated in designs and
colors. Dice in chubby hands.
The word
Jinx
floats in the air,
wordless as the cubes fall
to the board
and jump to life.

IV
For a crossroad of fates,
dripping in
perspiration and tears.
Hope is alive
within their shared gazes.

V
“Why did you bring dice?”
She would ask me every day.
“Something for when the rain comes.”
I replied, not wanting to
talk to her about
bright lights and the smoky air.

VI
The Cheater’s Dice are concealed
under cups. And when
the game had started,
the cups moved too quickly
for the player’s eyes
to catch the dice
hidden
within his sleeve.

VII
The only souvenir
that he brought back with him
was a pair of dice
engraved with her name.
She rolls with abandoned purpose,
waiting on that white
tiled
floor.