Gamble

Those men with dollars on the mind

are pushed around by Monday

and tricked by Crow,

tricked by the broken look of Crow’s thin legs.

That hungry Crow.

But its wings, oh!

Oh! and its laughter

and theft of radishes

from those big men’s fingers

like a hand game

where dark women

deceive white men, singing,

You’re crazy,

bad luck,

those words sounding like love songs

until the men pay up

with big grins on their faces.

Those women, oh!

in blue shoes

arm in arm

with their laughter.

They have even bilked the moon;

that’s why I love them so

and why tonight is rich and dark.