POEMORAMA AT PAPER POETRY
A Night of Good Luck
A prose poem for poker night
Though it’s been taboo to play poker in these parts, for what seems like forever, almost every Friday night, half the souls in camp trudge through the mud of this forest, wearing their finest dress, for these parts, at least.
Tonight it was my turn to hide the cards and poker chips at the bottom of the picnic basket and make my way to the cabin. Through all that mud again, both ways.
As I sat down to play my first hand, in my favorite chair, near the warmth of the roaring fieldstone fireplace, a single feather slowly fell, on the table, right in front of me, from the left wing of that old ratty stuffed owl on the mantle.
Written in response to the themes of Paper Poetry’s Poemorama, part two, explained in Suntonu Bhadra’s piece below
and prompt 8 ‘prose poem,’ from part one, explained by Carolyn Hastings below.
