(the world reversed— Rider-Waite)
A broken dance is still
the dance. Where I finished
is where I am, without motion.
I arrived at a misunderstanding
of my misunderstandings late:
the promised ecstatic secrets fell
into a heap of exhausted rags,
no chain of roses to hold me close.
Everyone I know have already left.
There is no divinity in this vision;
I am at least that cognizant.
Silence is only silence. I am
intoxicated with joy, and dread
the stagnant pain of morning.
(September 28, 2023)
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