Twilight drifts into evening. Colors
slowly fade into black and grey.
We sit staring past our cards at each other.
You rise to turn on the light, yellow
and flooding the room. My queens light up
with Mona Lisa smiles. Tonight,
I have you at my table, and yet
I’ve lost you. Now,
you’ve made your play. (It’s up to me to do
something remarkable.) I laugh feebly
and fade into my chair. The
bougainvillea stretches above us, its long
vining branches hung with teardrop leaves. It
quivers noticeably at your glare.
After you leave, I stand
staring in the doorway
at the vibrant black night until your footsteps
The door smiles as it closes.
by Cher Bibler