(with thanks to Miriam Nash)
The Fool
Step into the filigree
shadows of winter trees.
Jump the muddy bank.
Feel the leash strain
and break.
Don’t look back.
The Empress
Give me a sky the colour
of beetroot, a constellation
of spilt breadcrumbs.
Cuticle moon watch me dance
across this oil-dark night
with my petticoat of planets
and comets in my hair.
Give me a sky the colour
of beetroot, blood a thin seam
running down my thigh.
The Moon
Bring me a stick fallen
from the silver birch.
Draw a circle
in wet brown mud.
Yelp and crow until
your sad throat splits
and cave creatures crawl
from the bog of your belly,
curl at your feet. Sleep
on the soft damp turf.