Lottery (an acrostic poem)

Living day to day, depending on his luck for sustenance

Orbiting his need for money and his need to be creative

The two pulling in opposite directions, their tidal forces ripping him apart

Today was a day where art and hunger went hand in hand as he painted

Every ounce of his imagination was placed on the canvas stroke by stroke

Revealing a mixture of magic and his soul, bound in sweat and paint

Yet it didn’t sell, leaving him destitute and feeling like he lost at life

Dice (an acrostic poem)

 

Down to my last chance, I offer a prayer to the lukewarm plastic cubes

I then release them to bound across the table, watching them unleash their chaos

Cartwheeling and spinning among all the possibilities and futures

Eventually coming to rest as tombstones on my luck’s grave

 

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Bed (an acrostic poem)

 

Being bound to his pillow sounds heavenly

Even to the point that she dreamt of it

Daytime and duties of motherhood always arrived and shattered that fantasy

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