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***WARNING*** Some of the poetry on this site may be considered explicit or have adult themes. If you are easily offended, you may not want to view the content of this site.

September 11, 2009

Fortune Seller


She sits on
a soot covered couch
in the remains
of a church
that burned down
last year.

The remnants of God
hover over her.
(Spindly tendrils trailing
to her lips
where they are imprisoned
in a yellowed filter
with each drag
of her cigarette.)

She spits my fate
as she picks her teeth
with a Tarot card
and I fall
a little closer
to God.

1 comment:

Violetwrites said...

I love tarot n I love cats - can't go wrong here