March 2-8, 2020: Poetry from Mark Tulin and Diana Rosen

The Fate of a Ringed Finger

I sat in a dark movie theatre,
and watched with horror
as I proposed to my girlfriend,
blinded by a false reality
while my emotions spoke in tongues.

My mind set on marriage.
Only twenty-two at the time,
I thought I knew what I wanted
and didn’t realize how much we’d change.

I stood up and yelled at the screen,
Please think twice, or you’ll be sorry!
The moving picture didn’t answer;
the spirit of a senseless marriage took over
by the fate of a ringed finger.

All our romantic expectations,
our hopes, and dreams,
our bright future together,
ending up in misery.

I pleaded to myself to come to my senses.
Wake up, Snap out of it, Man!
I had lost control after I took the marriage vow.
The usher grabbed my arm, and reasoned—
It’s just a movie, sir.

The movie ended tragically, of course,
with a long, contested divorce.
Our possessions split up.
Our dream house sold,
and our children divided into thirds.

Rules of the Game

Hours we play on a square table small enough that none need to stretch arms too far to make the clickclackclick of tiles. We shout Crak! Bam! Dot! as we form plays while nibbling on appetizers served by rotating hostesses. We share our griefs (death, divorce, disease,) triumphs (of our children,) the graduations, their careers, marrying suitable partners who produce perfect grandchildren who delight, disarm our stoic façade. At first, we invite other players then death captures everyone. The funeral director carefully places the ancient wooden box of tiles in my coffin following the final rule of the game: the last remaining player brings the mah jongg set to enter The World to Come.