and slip down secret snakes,
that wait for me
to miss a step,
I lose my grip,
on scales as smooth as silver tongues,
that spit me out,
But when in hell, as Winston says,
you keep on going,
never knowing where each fateful step will lead.
And so I carry on, across the board,
ignored by ladder climbers, clutching, grabbing,
pushing, to the top.
I quietly endure the little boxes,
fingers crossed for lucky numbers
to release me from this trap.
And as I wait my turn,
I scrawl my words on empty spaces,
trying hard to find the meaning
in this place of fate and chance.
While I wander, wondering why and when,
I hear the serpents hiss again and
soon I’m sliding,
right back to the start.
It always ends with this beginning.
Not quite losing, not quite winning.
Being a good girl makes no difference
in a game where chaos rules.
Guess I’ll face it with a grin, never giving in.
I close my eyes
and shake it twice.
I roll the dice.