All in the Cards
Calling it Napoleon, my father played
Miss Milligan, repeating, as he laid the cards,
some story that his dad had told to him.
That’s how it works: a small addiction born
in firelight with the lashing rain outside,
the pasteboard shapes acquire familial romance.
I play the game, a ritual, and as I do,
startled by the clarity of my recall,
reflect on DNA, on bloodlines, tastes,
on grandpaternal influence… on chance.
Copyright © Lyn Moir 2013