You say you’ve been dealt
a bad hand, aces and eights, then straight
to surgery where your viscera were cut,
flushed, and folded back in place-this
ups the ante-you who’ve held all the chips,
have known no limits, now declare
just how to play out this hand.
You never bluff.
And as I se you shuffle
Down the hall toward chemo,
Doubled up, risking it all, we’re 52 again,
Each with a full house.
You raise. I’ll call.