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GAMESTERS ALL, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: The river boat had loitered down its way
Last Line: And, down the heat, I heard a woman moaning.


The river boat had loitered down its way,
The ropes were coiled, and business for the day
Was done. The cruel noon closed slowly down
And cupped the streaming town.
Stray voices called across the blinding heat,
Then drifted off to shadowy retreat
Among the sheds. The waters of the bay
Sucked away
In tepid swirls
As listless as the day.
Silence closed about me like a wall
Final and obstinate as death.
Until I longed to break it with a call,
Or barter life for one deep, windy breath.

A mellow laugh came rippling
Across the stagnant air
Lifting it into little waves of life.
Then, true and clear,
I caught
A snatch of harmony;
Sure, lilting tenor and a drowsing bass,
Elusive chords that weave and interlace,
And poignant little minors broken short
Like robins calling June.
And then the tune:

"Oh, nobody knows when de Lord am goin' ter call,
Roll dem bones.
It may be in de Summer time an may be in de Fall,
Roll dem bones.
But yer got ter leabe yer baby an yer home an all.
So, roll dem bones
Oh, my brudder,
Oh, my brudder,
Oh, my brudder,
Roll dem bones."
There they squatted,
Gambling away
Their meagre pay,
Fatalists all.
I heard the muted fall
Of dice, then the assured
Retrieving sweep of hand on roughened board.

I thought it good to see
Four lives so free
From care; so indolently sure of each tomorrow,
And hearts attuned to sing away a sorrow.

Then, like a shot,
Out of the hot,
Still air, I heard a call.
"Throw up your hands,
I've got you all.
It's thirty days for gambling.
Come Tony, Paul.
Now Joe don't be a fool.
I've got you cool."

I saw his eyes and knew he'd never go;
Not Joe,
The strongest hand in River Bow.
Springing from where he sat, straight, cleanly made,
He soared, a leaping shadow, from the shade
With fifty feet to go.
It was the stiffest hand he ever played.
To win the corner meant
Deep, sweet content
Among his laughing kind.
To lose; to suffer blind,
Degrading slavery upon "The gang."
And killing suns, and fever ridden nights
Behind relentless bars
Of prison cars.

He hung a breathless second in the sun,
The staring road before him; then like one
Who stakes his all, and has a gamester's heart,
His laughter flashed.
He lunged.
I gave a start.
God, what a man!
The massive shoulders hunched, and, as he ran,
With head held low, and splendid length of limb,
I almost felt the beat
Of passionate life that surged in him
And winged his spurning feet.

And then my eyes went dim:
The marshal's gun was out.
I saw the grim,
Short barrel, and his face
Aflame with the excitement of the chase.
He was an honest sportsman, as they go;
He never shot a doe,
Or spotted fawn,
Or partridge on the ground.
And as for Joe --
He'd wait until he had a yard to go,
Then, if he missed, he'd laugh and call it square.
My gaze lept to the corner, waited there.
And now an arm would reach it, I saw hope flare
Across the runner's face.

Then, like a pang
In my own heart,
The pistol rang.

The form I watched soared forward,
Swung the curve. "By God, you've missed."
The marshal shook his head.
No, there he lay, face downward in the road.
"I reckon he was dead
Before he hit the ground,"
The marshal said.
"Just once at fifty feet;
A moving target too.
That's just about as good
As any man could do.
A little tough;
But since he ran
I call it fair enough."

He mopped his head and started down the road.
The silence eddied around him, turned and flowed
Softly back, and pressed against the ears,
Until unnumbered flies set it to droning,
And, down the heat, I heard a woman moaning.





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