V. H. King's Ink

Deck: Bonefire Tarot || Cards: 5 of Swords; Page of Swords; 5 of Wands; The Empress; King of Coins

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for all this heaviness and heartache
tricking my tongue to utter curses,
wreaking havoc as the hundredth
nightmare of the day hurtles me
into a frayed headspace, smiling
to save face: for though I walk
through this valley of emotional
landmines, I will speak no evil.

nor will I call harm on my father’s
name, for I have seen
into the heart of the man he won’t
be, and I know I will weep
at his grave. so I put my trust
in the Infinite: glorifying

miraculous forgiveness, small acts
of insurmountable kindness,
measures of healing and grace
to last us all our days.
our majestic light shall smite
the day and we are no less royal
in the dark, because my body hurts
like hell and my, my!

my hope is heartier than you’d think,
considering this guilt has dragged me
lower than old alphabet magnets
sliding to the lint-lined bottom
of a sixty-year-old deep freezer
that’s as far from energy-efficient as my
own immune system. but like

my latest special interest, it still
runs like a beast: steady and sturdy
unlike my battleship of a childhood
home, a nuclear family aircraft
adrift in the white man’s waters.

that’s how I know justice
is the promise of spring:
wind to cleanse my bitterness
and rain to hush my anxiety;
sunlight as sweet as orange juice
speaking forth disaster, summoned
on the rhetoric of the oppressive
supremacy rotting through society.

I have survived my bad days
relying on ordinary miracles renewed
every morning I ache and bitch
to my friends, rewarded with our
collective imagination of horrifying
absurdities; a humor that finds

my heart delighted and my spirit
at home after three decades
of wandering, wondering if I would ever
be anything other than the ghosts of my
seven-year-old’s wildest dreams.