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  • Writer's pictureAnna Claire Hodge

Snake Eyes Means One & One

Updated: Nov 14, 2023

As long as there is bourbon, & dice to be thrown,

we’ll put our records on. The eighth notes

in my tattoo will lift from my arm

& snake your neck. Danger can lead to safety.

Like a first date at the gun range & wedding

soon after. Who can tell us how to live?


The world exists, of course. Bars fill,

the young fumble toward each other

as the clocks near two. We don’t have to

go home. We’re already there.


Tomorrow morning, you’ll fold my shirts,

& I’ll remember that devotion isn’t prayer

on bent knees. It’s returning again & again

to the work of love: to sear steak, pluck stems

from mushrooms, to feed me.


I belong to you, & you belong to me, too.

Though we can’t agree on our song,

it plays still, & will echo in my daughter,

as she learns that predictability, like a golf cart

that always starts, can also be a kind of freedom.


Though you’re tireless, you deserve

to fake a fever & rest, watch men halfway

around the world kick & sweat to make their

countries proud. You make me proud.


Daylight wanes in the winter, & in the dark,

you can’t see shiny cars. Instead, the blaze

of Christmas lights you hang each year

to make our home (as if one could) more beautiful.

Like the rainbow of neon on the Vegas strip,

every bulb blinks your name.

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