31 DAYS OF TAROT POEMS

Nine of Pentacles & Four of Wands

desire is dangerous
desperate
dreams die     when you wake up 
a daunting diaspora                          diminishes
 
you stalk 
you slither
in diabolical dexterity—
 
the world clicks its anguish on the roof of its mouth
it is dormant
it grazes 
 
while our riches reverberate, 
they are radiant,
rabid—
 
fruit falls on its knees when it is ripe, and so do I
 
we forget to celebrate the small things
like the return home to your noise