my brother-in-law
buys a bingo game at an estate sale.
my wife and her brother
talk about the old days playing
bingo and I think
about my grandmother
in Florida
at the recreation center in Clearwater
playing bingo with all the other old people
their printed five by five matrices cards
carefully arranged in rows
like tombstones. I am about her age now.
not long after the bingo nights
she slipped into the silent miasma
of dementia
after her husband died
from cancer. this thing has come full circle
the tombstone bingo cards arranged
warily as the numbers are called
through cackled speakers
suddenly striking
a charmed diagonal
and yelling

bingo into the void.