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?