31 DAYS OF TAROT POEMS

The World, Five of Swords

&

Four of Swords

engulfed by an army of every puncture 
stirred and crackled
by something that needs to be done or a signature I need to obey
a module of something
of this
and that
I am grieving for the woman who 
gave herself to retail, to an office circus
to men who looked exactly like her hate
 
a nap taps my shoulder
and I scream
 
a breath takes wings
what am I if not my anxiety?
 
I’ve outgrown, outreached
a scan of tightness controls my soundtrack
 
after the Zenith, there’s another barbed wire fence to bloody your palms with
 
when the stray belt of love strikes, finish what you started
 
we have no rite of passage
so we must dig our own
and scratch away the dirt we cover ourselves with
so that the bite hurts less
so that the blood stays pressed
up against a body that 
defeats commitment
 
hit the wall
 
pace your fall
 
secrete