poetry & paganism

Sacred relics
  left untouched
  like a mad girl’s virginity
   [at least, you pray]

There are chords despite the tell
  they decrecendo well
  & diminish to where
  you imagine there’s
nothing wrong but there’s
       something wrong I swear

  red flags & alarm bells

    flapping of wings in mourning
          it’s too dark to be morning
       it’s too dark to
              dream anything but the moment
I wonder now that you’re deceased
        and I believe, you can see everything
       will your image of me, change?
more than anyone else you had a hand
      in staging my final product
                 the priest was right
about encouragement, at least/
       my part, my piece forgone, defiled

           I know you know what I meant
–number two

Fever Dream

A woman sits across from me
dealing cash for tarot dreams
her shawl laced with owl wings &
bronze ankles swaying/dangling
flickering gold & crystalline beads

by candlelight she’s peering up underneath
two black satin fans of lashes
Then she centers her gaze on You
You’re here too?
The magic woman gnashes her teeth
She says: don’t you know
what’s always next?

High Priestess, I guess but you don’t
believe in these things I know it—-
Death, dealing the skull with a smile to show it
Funny way to say Change you spit
Laying the Devil card flat with a hit