A Good Hand.

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