High Priestess

she plays a game of

Patience

with tiny tarot

cards

worn wax figures

slip

silent from her

fingers

Queens and Kings

and sexless Pages

mark the years

mark the ages

a childhood Tower

a youth of Cups

a Pentacl’d life of

Death and Swords

Fools and Knights

always Knights

bearing changes

fortune hope

feeling word

with a breath, she presses

back the marbled table

clean and cold and

stares

unblinking at the cutting

cards

she is ageless old

at her feet (in socks)

the candescent cat

curled and coiled

she bends to

stroke

the muscled

fur

You are so spoiled.

he groans against her

hand

considers rising, decides

against

Lazy Lion...

her voice alone

defies

all age, for it was never

young

now its curves and

crackles

match the wilding

white

cascading from her

head

there are no more

apostles

no penitents, no

petitioners

to disturb the hush

of waves

to disrupt the rush

of sun

Just us.

she lifts him from the

floor

sets him atop the

cards

and lowers to

look

into his mismatched

eyes

Couldn't you have waited?

Couldn't you have found another way?

he makes no

reply

only stretches his

bulk

across the cards

to cool his lush

belly

'gainst the broken tiles

she laughs

and the sound is

air and water

earth and fire

and the

space

behind it all.