Scrabble

I pick seven letters and make the word chance:
twenty-two points, not bad for a start.
You’re not quite as a lucky, and counter with fate:
worth a mere twelve with your Double Word Score.
Fortune’s not bad, using all but my “y,”
and now we’re deep into it, as the board widens out.
Nights not of passion but of deep tendresse,
as you make the word gentle for just seven points.
Our son’s fast asleep, and I make the word heal,
a mere six points, plus a Triple Word Score.
And so, four years from fantasy, we move on this way,
lifting square letters from darkness to light.
Quietly, nastily, we’ve learned how to play,
as you wind up with family and I end with above
on this old, fated gameboard of luck and love.

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by Michael Blumenthal