Your eyes, like marcona almonds

Your eyes, like marcona almonds.

A Spanish delicacy,

Round and sweet,

But could crumble like polvorónes.

*

I relish the honey-colored gaze from across the table.

Checkered tablecloth rests beneath our hands,

Playing a silent game of chess.

The prawns, the pawns, dead soldiers,

Sacrificed,

While the Queen lies in wait.

*

Pauses between taps of the feet

Beat to the rhythm of my heart.

Bubbles crash upon your upper lip,

And I wish I were your glass of sparkling.

You catch my eyes that travel to your mouth,

With a flicker of recognition and disbelief.

*

Your marcona almond eyes wonder how I could love you,

And mine wonder how I could not.