Monday, April 7, 2014

Poetry Month 2


I am a table of cups
(some call them hearts.
I've been given a different deck)
The Ten
The Three
The Prince and the Queen.
At the end, the Ace;
All of it leading back to me.

No matter how the ground of California
should crack it's knuckles
and try to roll me from my bed,
      a lover waking up and groaning beside me
I remain stable,
holding that one vessel against
this belly
Trusting this soil
even as it tries to buck me from
whatever footing I've gained in these years.

One last time
this City of Angels will lash out at me,
even as I dash,
sipping at the sweet, heavy wine in this
the cup that's been given to me.

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