78 cards and i find you

my magician

you’re not supposed to be real
yet there you stand

with the highways of ohio looping
infinity above your head

a spell written by the hand
of my most unrealistic desires

conjured amidst vials of green poison

your shadow causes
the rose and lily conspirators
to fade into their own effluvium

coin, cup, wand, and sword
in your stead

wild flowers bowing in windy reverence

i hear a violin falling in love

what is to be done with you

what is to become of me

fate smiles

a gypsy wearing rags

whispering

my fortune is to participate

in this love poem