for Diana Der Hovanessian
I thought of her at a blackjack table
with scarlet and midnight
chips at her side pondering
situations for two Armenians
looking sideways for each other,
writing poems during shuffles.
And how she wrote
Playing cards with an Armenian
is different
from playing cards with anyone
else.
almost desperately
before she crossed it out
and looked at me, silent
because when two Armenians
are quiet it’s not
that they’ve found enough to say.
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