SCRABBLE

I hesitate when speaking

to you; I slosh

R’s and squelch

Q’s, deliberating

a careful approach to my

seven-letter manifesto–

QUARTZY.

 

My smirk

skitters along,

a childlike triumph,

which you’re quick

to crush in an onward

rush of splayed

fingers.

 

You clear the board.

Maple letters scatter

and rearrange themselves

against the white pine floor

in words you struggle spiteful

to spit

out.

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