You’ve been
bluffing your way
through our friend-
ship, the wine you’ve
swigged in minutes
making its naked presence
known,
that the joker
is worth
an even dozen,
one-up on my
ace of hearts,
for he vows to
make us laugh
at this time of
unspoken amour,
your royal flush
in the house of cards
we’ll construct with
trembling hands,
while love is concealed
like the side of the moon
that dares not show its face,
veiled in the
kitchen window,
withholding
its fevered glow.
©2022 Andreas Gripp
Andreas Gripp