Go ahead. Read the signs.
Tell me my future. Send me a fortune.
I don’t like the tarot deck.
I detest horoscopes.
I don’t let birthdates
or moon cycles determine my fate.
I draw my own figures in the sand.
We spin our own stories here,
no magic lamps or godmothers,
no hedge of thorns or poison fruit.
We save our own lives and lead
our own armies. Let the stars rise
and set amid their dead light, their ancient
atmospheres. They are not here for us,
they will not help us bury our dead.
When I look into this crystal ball,
when I pour the tea or rattle bones,
when I stare into the wall of smoke,
all I see before me is my own reflection,
jaw set, eyes fixed. There’s a future there
for us, I can see it, burning red
just beyond the wildfire horizon.