The electricity buzzed out,
Snuffing the dinner party;
My mother frowned on linen napkins
Carelessly thrown aside to drown
In gravy dribbling porcelain plates;
She died—what does it matter now?
I divorced embossed stationery.
The movers shattered my collection
Of cobalt blue Haviland plates
During my last run to nowhere.
I caved to darkened dining,
And purposeless thought spelunking
As two creamy tapers flickered—
In mismatched Steuben candlesticks.
A draft yin-yanged their tiny flames,
And the waxing and waning drip-drip
Hypnotized and then steadied
My far-sightedness focus forward;
Finally, my face plays poker
Well enough, for in the last game
Of solitaire, I shuffled the deck
And drew my luckiest number:
The Jack of Hearts, who sent me home
(mon semblable, mon frère).
Soul deep storyteller and editor with a passion for social media, gardens, the South, French culture, art, and literary classics