"Card Players"
from the painting by Romare Bearden

If you turn a sound sideways it’ll disappear
and if you ask my father he’ll tell you clear:
Three men sat down to poker that night
Their backs twisted as jacks, their necks screwed on right
I’ll wager my life God is watching above
I’ll wager my life now if push comes to shove
Their black fleshy fingers slide across the white cards
Pink soles shifting in socks, pant legs pinching the knee
Break it, stake it, roll the deck
pitch my face up, crack my neck
I’ve got a green rhythm oozing through me tonight,
a green rhythm so blue it’ll make your lamp light
Tell me, spell me, chart my eyes
Don’t let nobody swat the flies

Polyester suits sweat under polyester light,
table cloth rustles out of sympathy for the dish rags;
Three men are playing poker and night
is leaning in the window to get in on the game.
Go away, night, they say, we don’t want you in here,
Just leave us alone, and they turn up the light.
Night hides in the shadows under their dollar bills;
it whispers them stories about rich men with
teeth shining like gold, gold capped and rasps them
stories about poor men sitting in stairwells crying.
They’ve just got to watch the cards, which lay
flat, all straight, straight up, straight up.
I can feel fortune’s pinky tickling my back, I can feel
her flirting with my shoulders I can feel her
rubbing my hair ooh I can feel her fortune
Brother, turn up the light
My hat’s angled sweet keep your hat on brother
keep your hat on.
The cards seem ready to snap jump out of my
hands, ready to up slip slide slick across the
table I need one more card.
Your lips are turning red, man, turning real red
they get real, then they can’t get any more red,
then they get even redder – your lips, man,
what have you been kissing.
Ooh, I can feel fortune all up in my back,
all up in there

You got a drink? I’m sweating like a fire,
man, close the window and turn up the light
Keep your hat on, bring me my water
Night is dusting me with her gold and
the windows are creaking against the heavy outside
air. The walls are red from top to bottom,
ready to tell a story, but I’m flat and
twisted, ready to vanish if you turn me
sideways

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