She’s not playing any
War.
Maybe some stray cats suck cigars.
They like to bet.
They like to watch.
Others play poker in the
Basement.
She returns for
More.
Maybe some like to
Fish.
Maybe by the river, an all-day game
With the packed cooler,
And the bait,
And the hook.
Always, she wishes for a good
Hand.
She can’t live
With the broken zipper.
The only fix
Is the face, and some kind of
Reality, like blue
Eyeshadow.
-- C.A. MacConnell
