Through a thousand espresso mornings
I’ve waited for life to make sense
of a heap of melted problems; now I sit
dealing out my tattered tarot
of strangled, bleeding bank statements,
losing lottery tickets
and tiny scraps of paper
holding phone numbers without names,
putting the question over and over
to the soggy tea leaves in my chipped old cup.
Published on 30 July 2021 in The Waxed Lemon, a great-looking new Irish print magazine.