Under pressure like this it's rather hard to keep a good poker face. Luckily Jim's walked the edge long enough to be able to look over and laugh.

High Stakes

When blackness engulfed me I drifted away
To someplace where most have a permanent stay;
Before me a figure of bone and of cloak
Where billions of screams vacillated like smoke.
And I glimpsed at my hand and looked over at him,
And since death was the dealer, my choices were slim.
I kept a straight face; never frowned, never smiled
The game: five card draw, the jokers were wild.
So losing would bring me eternal damnation
But winning would offer me reincarnation.
He showed no expression, he raised me two souls;
He stared in my eyes as I glared in his holes.
I gave him two cards, he reached toward the stack
I shrank form his touch as he gave me two back.
I'd seen my four aces and then grinned with glee--
The fifth card was sharing the grimace with me.
Now death can be tricky, or so I have heard;
But death showed the depth of the truth of his word.
He steadied his sickle to show his conceit
Then beckoned as if to admit to defeat,
and I then realized while returning to earth
that I'd play him again--I'd died during birth.

- Jim Pinkstone

Linger 'round the darkside...