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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