(ten of pentacles, reversed, Rider-Waite)
We face each other. You look
into the house, I to the outside.
Beneath an unrelenting sun,
the streets are hot and bright.
Inside, the house is cool and dark;
the dogs spread across the tiles.
Local lords flash knives like smiles,
while risking other people’s lives.
We stand here at the threshold;
the door is open. With one step,
we enter the square, or the warmth
and comfort of the house.
In the air between us, a coin spins,
and we wait, without moving.
(September 26, 2023)
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