The Gypsy Fortune Teller

The gypsy fortune teller has gone off her meds--

The drunken ambulance men

Would take her away if they could only stop laughing and find the friggin' doors.

Churches are no place for angels,

But a fine place for bones.

Oh look, Bo Peep,

Stop cutting yourself for five minutes and listen.

There is no astrology to this, and no sacraments.

No rescue.

Just a few plasters and some mutton stew.

Leave your crook here and we'll go down to the beach before it snows--

We'll steady each other as we pour the sand from our hearts,

So we at least don't have to do it alone;

We'll watch it blow away in sheets

Like Tarot-Jesus.

(His woman kicked him out--

Him and his broken clock gospel,

Right twice a day

But still comforting to us black-faced and not-beautiful ones

Who, despite all the mud daubing, still go blind from scanning the horizon

For hopeful signs.)



"Him and his broken clock gospel,
Right twice a day"

"Broken clock gospel right twice a day." I am guessing it is stuck on 5 or 6 meaning the sunrise and sunset. I'm dying to know. I'm so happy I found your blog thanks to Mike.
Marty said…
Welcome back Shay!
Mama Zen said…
Amazing! Welcome back!
Fireblossom said…
I expect it's stuck on "1". I'm glad you found your way here! :-)

Thanks for the welx, Marty and Mama Zen!
Shrinky said…
I would have said welcome back too if I had been here. I had a bit of an adventure - my wallet and i.d. stolen, and the flight cancelled 'til the next day. But now I am thankfully home, and rested enough to visit again.

Your poetry is amazing.
Erin said…
your poetry IS amazing.
Helen T said…
I am so glad you are back and posting. Being starved of your poetic genius is not a good thing!
Anonymous said…
This is one of your better poems.
Kelly said…
Tarot-Jesus... *chuckles* - even if i am not meant to! That's the beauty of what you write, laughing at the pain, is the route to healing. Almost makes it seem all worth it, to have a gem like this! A gift from the shadows to shine a light on our lives. The more you write, the more 'we' know we are not alone. Bravo. Kx
Fireblossom said…
Welcome home, Shrinky. I am sorry to hear about your wallet and flight troubles. Craggy Island was surely dull in your absence.

Thank you so much, Erin. :-)

(((((((((('elen))))))))))) Thanks, sweetheart. Mwah!

Thanks Blackbird. :-)

I seem to do that to you all the time, don't I, K, make you laugh amid the horror! I remember being a teenager and knowing I had the words, and wanting to write, but not feeling that i had anything much to say. Now i am (lots) older and have lots to say, but it has mostly been dearly bought. The entire point, besides working out my own dramas by writing, is surely to say, yes, me too, it feels just like this. (((((((K))))))))
Riot Kitty said…
You have such a genius way with words!
Jannie Funster said…
Oooo, pour the sand from our hearts.

Shay - you amaze me!
Jannie Funster said…
Actually Shay , I think is my favorite poem of yours so far.
Fireblossom said…
Fanks, Kitty!

Jannie, I sort of cannibalized the "sand" bit from an earlier, lesser poem. I think it portrays a certain grinding messed-up feeling perfectly, so I reworked it here. Wow, Finster's fave! I musta done goooood. :-)
Fireblossom said…
Funster, I meant. There's another "bord" on a wire lol.

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