Winning at Solitaire
by Elaine Mintzer
At the motel, I laid the four kids
sideways in a bed like wooden matchsticks.
the oldest with her feet sticking over the edge.
I warned her to lie still so as not to disturb her brother
who matched her arm to arm, knee to knee,
next to their sister who thrashed in her sleep,
stirring the covers, finding her own order over their limbs.
And the baby on the end, curled into himself,
lips sucking a dream breast.
I propped a pillow at the foot of the bed
to keep them from falling,
from meeting the stained carpet,
the cracked foundation,
the dust and spiders
that spin in the dark.
I am still waiting for passers-by to pass by,
for the strobes in the parking lot
to roll down the street.
When the night quiets and the kids settle,
I pick up a deck of blue bicycle cards,
soft at the edges, and shuffle.
I hear the breath of their intersections,
the soft slap as I lay them
on the wobbly table in rows, in piles,
aligning each new one with the last.
In the palm of my left hand,
the remainder of the deck
turned by threes.
Turn after turn.
Game after game.
PAINTING: Motel, Route 66 by John Register (1991).
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I remember my grandmother playing solitaire, in the rare moments she was not working. My mother, too. These days, my mom plays on her iPad.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Elaine Mintzer lives in Los Angeles. Her work has been published in journals and anthologies, including Gryroscope Review, Last Call, Chinaski, Beloit Poetry Review, Panoplyzine, Slipstream Press, Perspectives, Borders and Boundaries, Mom Egg Review, Subprimal Poetry Art, Lummox, Lucid Moose Lit’s Like a Girl anthology, The Ekphrastic Review, Cultural Weekly, Rattle, The Lindenwood Review, and 13 Los Angeles Poets. Elaine’s collection, Natural Selections was published by Bombshelter Press. Visit her at mintzer.org.
I really liked the understated despair and humanity of this picture.
Wow. So much here, so sparingly told.