Catherine Fahey: Solace of the Moon
Photo: Joanna C. Valente
Four of Swords
Unpin my hair, scrape off
layers of makeup that stayed
through eating and sweating.
Count the hairpins: nowhere
near the record of 67, set
at my best friend’s wedding.
Slip off shoes, peel off
stockings and Spanx, let
stomach and thighs expand.
Unzip my dress, unhook
my bra. Unwind the green silk
scarf from around my neck.
Lift my head off my shoulders,
Lay my body down.
Eight of Cups
I don’t know why I’m crying, whether it’s
for me or us or the onions. The TV
plays a never-ending Law and Order
marathon, and the washing machine is
spinning, spinning. I wrap my expectations
in silk, tied with ivy, bandaged with yew.
That parcel sits on the table, next to
the thawing steak, the patient vegetables.
I’m chopping and crying, harder now - I’ve
cut my fingers, leaving a trail of blood
through the kitchen. All I need is my phone,
passport and purse. All that’s left is to leave
the keys in the lock, ghost through the door, and
turn my face to the solace of the moon.
Editor’s Note: These poems are part of our collection, Haunted: Tarot Poems
Catherine Fahey is a poet and librarian from Salem, Massachusetts. When she’s not reading and writing, she’s knitting or dancing. You can read more of her work at www.magpiepoems.com.
