They watch their prize dissapear.
Not wanting to look;
Unable to turn.

A breath forced out,
Green bounty growing.
Pile twice as big as Everest
(if put to scale)

Flesh cracks at a pleasing angle.
A magnet for scowls,
It reflects defeat.

Sighs all around
(on the house)
But two decline.
They don't drink of misfortune.

A clouded head's no good
When in a battle
Of luck and wit.

Around them, three dip out.
Hardly graceful.
As they nurse their wounds.

Of this the two take no notince.
Noting only,
That the pot's not as full.

Air's slapped by the rapid attack
Of paper weapons,
Decked out in suits.

Cut and dealt are the 52
Yet the eyes of their masters
Never leave each others own.

Pluck, spread, toss.
The exchange is silent;
A whisper against thewind. pr> Pluck, hit, toss.
"I'm only frozen;
Come on baby, hit me again."