Praying in the Golden Temple
The slots spin,
the casino’s siren song
bellows its flashy music-box tune.
Click, click, click….
O so close!
“It’s not gambling,” she says,
“it’s just a half-assed prayer
we ritually repeat to a sleeping deity.
one that doesn’t like germy fingers
poking at her all night.
Don’t forget to wash your hands,
they provide restrooms,
for when we are tired
of crapping out
on the craps tables.”
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
