She Prayed With Mangled Hands

16 Jun

She pulled her arm free of his grip
barely seeing where she was going
she took a long look down a
flight of dim steps, and spilled
down them into a thousand
dollar alley.

The sign above her blinked
on
and
off:
“Slot Machines &
Fortune Tellers,”
but all she found
was a worn escalator.

She stumbled in and
hoped to find the extra
time she needed. The
late hour seemed to
settle the senseless
crowd around her.

She pulled her hand
out of her pocket and
a rain of broken glass
and blood fell down,
but she found the
salvage of one good
finger.

She was hoping to break
the bank not become
another transitory body
reaching out but never
finding that elusive
world of riches.

Soon the night and her
fury were gone becoming
a morning of soggy womb
sheets forever stoned in
each eye losing thousands
as the cold water worship
rushed through her mangled
hands.

She stepped out onto the
balcony and daylight
assaulted her and robbed
the graves behind her eyes
as the children outside
on the street below found
belief stamped upon the
morning paper.

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2 Responses to “She Prayed With Mangled Hands”

  1. chrisineedstoshare October 19, 2011 at 3:17 am #

    I am a gambler. Compulsive to the point I have struggled to regain control and make it what it once was, a senseless game. I see myself here, the self that could have been.

    • mattspotentialpoetry October 19, 2011 at 3:27 am #

      I am sorry to hear about the compulsion you struggle with, but as a poet it is always nice to know your words have some truth within them. Thanks for reading. Peace.

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