I sat at a kitchen table

in a rented cabin.

I took a sip of gin on the rocks.

The burn in my mouth cooled

the anxiety in my throat.

Alisha lit a cigarette

and pushed her issues

with her mother across her teeth.

Alisha took a puff

and blew the smoke through her nostrils.

Gusts had disrupted the power.

A candle flickered through shadows

of our movement as the only light,

in a place we’d intended

on spending Thanksgiving.

I finished my gin

and pushed the glass away

and I listened.

I gave Alisha an engaging gaze.

I held my head in my hands,

elbows propped on the table.

We invited our family

for a potluck dinner.

Drinkers had to arrive

with their own brew.

I stared as the flame danced.

It had something to tell me.

I’d concluded that I didn’t want to know.

Alisha motioned for me to speak.

I thank her for being here

and going nowhere.

God knows I haven’t been the best

to live with.

Alisha said that the candle reflected

a smile on my face.

The candle told me that I was happy.

I reached into my breast pocket

and slid my hand across the table.

I asked Alisha to marry me.

Alisha threw her hands to her eyes

and brushed streams of crystals

that welled in her eyes.

Alisha told me she’d been waiting

for this moment.

I guess that was a yes,

and she said yes.

By Andy Cooper

From: United States

Twitter: AC0040