in the winter we take to throwing rocks
along the frozen pond, the winner is closest
to the X we carve and fill with red wax
from the dining room we can see them playing
in two groups either side of the stretch where the rocks glide
silent at this distance and slowly (through the bare window frame)
becoming as grey as the sky entire (over empty plates
elderly hands fold silverware without a single negative thought
)
a game of tic-tac-toe carved into a tree
above a branch which was difficult to reach when last i climbed it
where kisses defeated hugs
the flames in the stove curl up the vent
fleeing to the night sky as the cat cries at the side door
slinking in and curling up before the fire
nervously listening to the cavalcade of returning players
we really are at our best in the company of others
you have to be really careful
pulling the lid off after using the can opener
i say just before my hand slips
red with spaghetti-O sauce
but not yet blood