The Dark Arts
They warned me this would happen
when they swore us off playing cards.
You think it’s all Hearts and War
till the Dark Lord shows up
and steals your soul.
Yet here I am on a Thursday at 3,
paying a millennial witch
to consult the minor arcana.
I have marshaled every scrap of intention
and cast my dice for the goddess of stones.
My affinities lie with soft-eyed pagans
with bleeding heart queens and prophets
of knives.
If I’m going down, I’m going down
reeking of blue sage and mugwort
a broom in my fist and a feather
in my teeth.
02.19 | New Hymns