THE DOMINO PLAYERS Poem by Barbara Köhler

a game with the eyes a game with the hands
the talk of gestures tied to the net of glances
captious and resolved as if turned to answer
questions the next question to a continuation
of the present to let a piece to let a possibility
to let an ornament grow on the green tin
square between the players a maze with two
exits and a forgotten middle the figure that
depicts a conversation it takes on the form
shares it with the pieces the double squares
with eyes black on worn white count same
to same count on green next to red six next to
one to one next to nothing to nothing count
recount each other a present a gift um
presente: the mix of chance and fate and skill
the mixing of pieces a ritual the division into
two equal parts and a common kitty out of
which the one who can no longer give takes
the one who has nothing to add takes out of
a hope that doesn't fade till the last piece is
played to find an answer a sign a sameness
a turn that continues the conversation that fits
into the ornament that perhaps becomes a
picture that then appears clearly in the middle
of the night in the small bar with the green tables
at one of which two play not at war, not for
mastery or power the one who wins this game
is the one who can give everything who stays
awake who sees how sameness changes at
the same time the one who answers the other
at the table with the same sides and the
gestures the glances the glances the gestures
no words but another quiet hearing between two
givers and the pattern gives an order to chance it
perceives who gives: realizes it at the same time
bindingly and yet clearly open on both sides
something that is given as if everything could
depend on a game of dominoes: life itself