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Dancing With Divination



The Tower  

crashing slowly  

like the wave on the nearby  

shoreline, screaming the   

siren song, politely asking  

for a friend, lost in  

the depths,   

yearning for the Tower’s white light








Page of Cups  

volume full blast  

unable to tune it out  

We've come full circle  

toxic habits growing back stronger  

like that blasted poison ivy,  

refusing to be smothered.  


Shut up  

ignore it,   

obsessing on the inescapable  

just pretend everything is fine  

it will be fine? 

Eight of Swords  

my lucky number  

starting to feel cursed  

suffocating, begging for  



such a round, symmetrical number  

feels uneven now  

suffocating as the seventh  

takes and takes  


unwilling, perhaps unable  

to change  


needing to be   

one of eight  

the one who gets out  

The Star  

nothing to do as  

nothing can be changed  

no excuse to accept less  


stuck in the pool as   

you continue to be poured out  

beyond empty,  

yearning to consume the flames of ambition  


drink not what has been poured  

rather, consume the flames of ambition  

as you wish upon that shooting star  


always a survivor  

Nature wanting to snuff me out  

again, and again and again  

c-section, seizures, bone infection  


predicted to amount to nothing  

with my atypical behaviors.  

less than nothing  

as I failed to meet preordained milestones.  

lucky to be able to be nothing  

best case living in a group home.  


living, thriving  

chasing the impossible,  

if for nothing else  

pure spite  

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Grace Hunter - Graduate of UC Clermont, Grace is an avid reader of fiction who loves combining the fantastical with the occult by utilizing the tarot for thematic inspiration in her fiction and poetry. 

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