Seven of Stars
By Marianne Szlyk
I do not seek Death.
Lovers do not call out to me
as I wander through the city
where the flute and fiddle
trickle down steep steps.
No one here holds
the tarot card I seek.
On this card, yellow globes blossom
on lettuce-green trees. The barefoot man,
blond hair curling down a rough neck,
peers at this fruit, too-sweet lemon,
somehow growing so far north
that herbs weaken,
tomatoes are evil,
and sunlight washes
bitter, yellow ink
over a paper sky.
The Fool ignores me. The Magician,
concerned with his cloak, withdraws.
I must leave the walled city for trees
with fruit, music from automobiles.
Witches have always lived here,
but without magic or money,
without the Seven of Stars,
Marianne Szlyk is a professor of English and Reading at Montgomery College. She also edits The Song Is… Her first chapbook is available online at Kind of a Hurricane Press. Her second chapbook, I Dream of Empathy, is available on Amazon. Her poems have appeared in Loch Raven Review, of/with, bird’s thumb, Cactifur, Mad Swirl, Solidago, Red Bird Chapbook’s Weekly Read, Mermaid Mirror, and Resurrection of a Sunflower, an anthology of work responding to Vincent Van Gogh’s art. Some have received nominations for Best of the Net and the Pushcart Prize. Her full-length book, On the Other Side of the Window, is now available from Pski’s Porch. She invites you to stop by her blog-zine and perhaps even submit some poems: http://thesongis.blogspot.com