by Nick Gisburne
A lonely heart, a melancholy ace
Entangles with another into two
But three, a third, a spare, a friendless face
Reminds the hand that four is one too few
Impatient for the fight, the fist, now five
At six, when time has travelled half its round
Abusing seven sins to stay alive
Reveals the compass half-points, eight, are drowned
Not even cats, whose lives are short, but nine
Survive the ten most terrifying waves
But Jack, the youngest brother of his line
Transports the Queen to safety in the caves
The King laments, his sorrow absolute
To find no Princess sleeping in the suit
