SOLITAIRE
 
 
 

i asked the silence of truth & there was no response.
i shuffled the thin & worn cards again, placed a two of clubs on
the three of hearts.
In the window shadows danced from the apple tree, sun hot & low in
a gray sky.
Sweat dripped from my nose onto the nine of diamonds.
(No tens i thought. No aces.)
i asked the thin wind that skipped between shadows of truth.
There was no response.
i turned over the eight of clubs & put it on the red nine.
Summer was full. - the heat early, with every indication of
lasting.
i glanced out the window. No clouds.
i turned over a black king.
No place for it.
i asked the dark king of truth & his eyes said there was none.
There was only the appearance of truth.
i turned over another black eight, then a red queen.
Shadows grew thick & the breeze sparse.
Night laughed the sound of hissing lawns & barking dogs.
A drop of sweat fell on the red queen.
She whispered nothing for my tired eyes.
 

Kenn Mitchell
©1995