Tower of Counters

It seems that, poised preciously in a dream,
a tower of counters, steadied by a child’s hand,
seesaws, crashing in a blurred stream
as I awake.
  Dulled, trying to stand
and at the same time scoop up a few bright discs,
I slowly buckle up. Irresolute knight,
I have to encounter too many trivial risks
before I can stand as a tower upright.

It seems that in everyone a sense of poise
obtains: the counters fall uncertainly,
most significant when they make least noise.
The sense is strongest when we let them lie.

These are a dreamer’s words, prone to mistake.
Then who is upright, active, fully awake?

No doubt packing too many double meanings into words, this brings back the general time of writing, with the other pieces tending to be more driven and particular. A friend suggested I call it ‘The Gambler Sonnet’ but I’ve never quite been able to.

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