NaPoWriMo 18/30 (the skipped days I worked on a longer commission, so shush)


You are robin-breasted – the outstretched wing of a full house

beats my flush. Victory sits on your cheeks like a fat baby.

I shuffle the cards and deal, uninterested in the game

or the anecdote of your last date –

she had a nose like a macaw, no, a fucking flamingo

but that’s the problem with swiping right when you’re drunk

and I’m a gentleman so I thought I’d follow through, y’know

she was an alright girl, but not a feather on you.


I go all in on seven high to end the game.

I notice the bars on your apartment window for the first time –

how the wind opens its throat, how I recognise the song.

You move closer. I have to congratulate you on your effort,

well done! Most birds don’t get a complex game like poker.

One more thing…

You tell me I am beautiful even in defeat.

By Charley Genever

Emerging poet from Peterborough addicted to words would like to meet similar minded folk to engage in a poetry revolution.

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