let us play 

a game of poker where 

we shuffle through women as if 

there is no end to greed.

fold!

let us discard their dignity

face down into the pot, bodies pressed

into chips worn smooth by hands 

stained with cigar smoke and 

the ghosts of every woman they forgot. 

forget their names 

but remember them by their fear, 

a taste that outlasts the gamble.

bet!

let us pocket the queens

but not before we strip their crowns 

and now we may call them

a pair of b****es. carve a stake 

into their skin until they 

bleed docility. after all, 

shouldn’t they take pride in being

such an exquisite prize?

call!

let us contort their limbs 

into compliance and

shackle their hands, 

their eyes clouded,

emptied of presence. 

strip screams from their throats 

and force painted red lips 

to spit out loose change.

raise!

let us wager on the curves 

of their breasts and demand 

more than flesh can give 

until they reach a showdown! 

not of their figures but of 

the last of their decency.

good game, gentlemen.