I SIT ALONE AT THE KITCHEN TABLE
My grandpa drinks. My dad drinks.
My brother drinks.
My grandpa counts lines
on the tablecloth by twitching toes.
The lines spill over the edge
no matter how he works it.
My grandma waits for his fist to drop.
My grandma drinks. My mother drinks.
My sister drinks.
My mom waits for his fist to drop.
She plays a game of solitaire
flipping three cards at a time
waiting for one card;
the one that will make her win.
She flips three over at time.
One uncle gambles on the game
of solitaire with the other one.
They bet against her.
My aunt plays with the edge
of a knife, thinking of plunging
it into one wrist, or maybe the other.
My mom keeps flipping cards
that never change.
She smiles at each of them.
STEVE HENRY, originally from the rust belt town of Buffalo, NY, is an MFA poetry student at Columbia College Chicago. This [would be] his first publication.