Spades
Eight eyes face inward,
an imperfect square
Meticulous tick marks
A careful scribe
Fifty two cards,
twelve face,
thirteen spades
Dealer shuffles,
a sliding bridge
You split
Knuckles rap
Confident
Not enough for blind
Deal
A flurry of movement
Count’em
We good?
Good. Bid
I’ll go nill
The hell you will
Four eyes lock,
a pause,
a nod
He’ll go nill, I’ve got four
Big,
Don’t go Moe Bro
Bro
Bro
Fine go Moe
You lead
I farted, hope ya’ll smell it
Your turn
Nine months without you
You’re leaving us
Dirty diaper
Your turn
Midnight feeding
Your turn
He’s crying again
Your turn
Pooped again
Your turn
But when I come back?
You’ve been gone
Pooped again
Your turn
Your son woke up
Your turn
It’s so bad
Your turn
Daddy, wipe me
Your turn
When is it his turn?
Did we win?
Can you win the game
When there are no rules?
With no terms agreed
When we can’t agree
To what color uniform
When there is no goal
Can the goalie guard
When the audience tires
And changes the channel
When you can’t win the game
Can you lose
Adam Fenner is a Full-Time Husband, Father, and Accountant, who moonlights as an author. He is retiring veteran of the Marine Corps and the National Guard with deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan. Currently, he live in Georgia with my wife and three children.
