John Darker

I have one chip remaining, I am told 

Apparently, it is at 2 o’clock 

I nudge it, I flip it, but then it glides

It is pale on pale, my cutlery fails

It is now at 10 o’clock, I take stock 

Clink, clink, metallic scrape, all teeth on edge

I stab it, I have it, but then it falls 

It lands at 6 o’clock, on a chipped edge

Near to discarded garden peas, it fleas

Fumbling as chip tumbles, I accept my loss