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