Good at games


    Too good at games,


    like an artisan,


    woman of craft,


    Shakespearian thespian


    of smiles and frowns,


    tears and gowns.


    Too good at rolling loaded dice,


    loaded words,


    emotion as poignant


    and pointed as King Leer,


    casting his kingdom into the sea


    for a moment of feeling.


    Feelings that clash


    like thunderclaps,


    clap like roaring applause.


    Feelings that cry Yahtzee,


    settle the coasts of Catan,


    crash the riding trains,


    sink the largest ships.


    Cash in on checkmate,


    cornering the king with the queen.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Let’s read a book instead.


    In your life always


    Even when the volcano destroys Pompeii,


    the sprinklers soak through shoes,


    the baby howls like hurricanes


    or the oven burns through crust.


    Even when Rome falls,


    Jerusalem sinks under siege,


    the store is out of milk.


    Even when the lantern dies,


    the rope breaks,


    the cave is plunged in black.


    Even when you say it’s right


    and I say it’s wrong,


    huffing and puffing like collision-bound trains…


    I’ll be in your life always.


    Mopping up the lava and ash.


    Drying the shoes,


    soothing the child


    or baking a new loaf.


    Building a new land,


    bolstering up the freedom some seek,


    running to another store.


    Burn the candle,


    tie the rope,


    light the cave.


    Agreeing that love is not making you hurt,


    not making me right,


    not making you right.


    Enough to be in your life always.