| Father’s gone, and the legs are out. | ||||||||
| She blesses the tabletop with twin aces and forgets | ||||||||
| to call the others her sisters— | ||||||||
| their lingerie, | ||||||||
| already hanging from the crucifix. | ||||||||
| Down to garters and double veils, | ||||||||
| Friday’s tunics crumpled | ||||||||
| on the dust-to-dust floor. | ||||||||
| It’s a little telling, | ||||||||
| how her attention never betrays that boney thing, | ||||||||
| parsing Newport O’s | ||||||||
| into the slipstream minor leagues | ||||||||
| of their busted A.C. | ||||||||
| Wall paint sweating mauves, magentas. | ||||||||
| Another hand folds. | ||||||||
| Bandeaus, like barn owls, flaunting off— | ||||||||
| skin-bare, capeless | ||||||||
| on shots of Jack, the creaking wood | ||||||||
| of their chairs. | ||||||||
| Letting their cards flash face, laughing | ||||||||
| Hey—Who’s looking? | ||||||||
| Yellowgold brassiere slung | ||||||||
| like tit moons above them. | ||||||||
| (I admit | ||||||||
| I was looking.) | ||||||||
