The Dice

The dismal quarter of the
city in a nightmare.

A certain sinister cube of
a building, 
a dingy windowless structure 

but with some marks on each
side, 
numbered one to nine.

Some people with no face
trapped inside, 
experience every night the mournful
invasion of moving darkness

when the dice is flipped on
the playing board.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

Poem

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