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Lines on your palm

by Kevin T. McEneaney
Tue Apr 30th, 2019

Glowing, winking embers at poker-point

become swarming tea leaves in your cup;

cast of I-Ching demythologized

by devout, mindful meditation.

 

Daily horoscope lifts aspiration,

a prayer to a saint accomplishes same;

Jack of Diamonds crooning to Queen of Spades,

replacing entrail of sacrificed bird.

 

Astrological headgear discovers

Archer, Ram, Lion, the Twins and Maiden—

perhaps even a fate you would prefer

in an imagined reincarnation.

 

From Egypt, Italy, to Las Vegas,

the turn of a card determined your luck;

then eighteenth century cartomancy

offered occult, improvised prophecy. 

 

That chattering blue telephone psychic

will tell you that you are halfway there

to what you dream in early twilght

as your bill becomes astronomical.

 

Rolling dice offers another fate

with better odds than roulette,

as the game of chance escalates

down the hoof-pounding stretch.

 

That old magic of childhood wonder

when gazing at blinking, isolate stars,

or caught astonished in clap of thunder—

was it all chance—or imagined sighs?