Sunday Surrender

A confession overheard.

One time I heard a man confess
that he had wandered, more or less,
into the world of chips and dice
that many didn’t think was nice.

  (I happened to be in earshot
  when his confession came out hot.
  I did not mean to drop my eave
  yet my two ears were on receive.)

Apparently the gamble itch
had collared him and made him twitch.
Blackjack and slot machines with light
became addiction overnight.

  (I heard confession when relaxed
  and noticed that his words were taxed.
  He spoke of judgment going south
  as if three lemons filled his mouth.)

And add to gambling was this fact:
(his virtue was, indeed, sidetracked).
He lifted money from the plate
to enter in through blackjack’s gate.

  (Embezzlement, a loot lowdown--
  the people’s trust, he was renown.
  But now confession, like a mass,
  was shadowy, like dark stained glass.)

One Sunday when the flock had flown
I heard a man confess with phone.
It was the mark of gambling’s beast
heard in the I surrender priest.

28 Lines