How do I play with this
Devil-dealt hand. When
Each card ignites at the touch,
Now my hands have become callous
And rough
But still they are clean, indeed
They are clean. I
Do not care to mend them
But I admit
I worry who shall
Comfort them, if they shall
Receive comfort at all.

How then, do I proceed
Through hell, through
This brittle landscape
Forged from badluck
And prescribed
Mistakes.

Perhaps, I shall laugh
As Dante does and
Perhaps, I shall dance
As time has done.