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by Josey Pickering 4 months ago in performance poetry
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A poem

A tarot reader

In a field of wildflowers,

I sit with my inner child.

We drink invisible tea

from the eight of cups

and shuffle our deck again.

I weave a crown of flowers,

play the queen of cups

whilst my smaller existence,

becomes the sun.

We lay upon the five of cups,

to rest our weary souls.

Tucking ourselves under the four of swords.

We shuffle our experiences

and together we merge

becoming the nine of cups,

satisfied in who we’ve come to be.

(This one goes out to my beloved wife, a master of tarot and someone who helps heal my inner child daily)

performance poetry

About the author

Josey Pickering

Autistic, non-binary, queer horror nerd with a lot to say.

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