Ace of Tentacles

for Micah Ballard

I prefer the laughter of strangers
to the photo op I missed on purpose
as it may be the only remaining evidence
of an inner war of attrition I tend to gloss over

livid with ritual anomalies I could fake but
couldn't explain even if I wanted to

Ceremonies of crushed glass might ignite the
sea-mist in somebody's dream
where I'm feeling conspicuously invisible
as always when I'm holding

but only to sidestep a rendezvous of bad intentions
with braided sunlight knocking on the sheet
music as a shadow might tune the hibiscus
an octave higher

That first cold plunge into salt foam
dealing you a hand from the bottom of the deck
as if haunt & fortune determined in the trim

& though I may strum lost chords you
might find that the tune is vaguely familiar
a midnight sun at high noon folded into a sound

"Love's Apparition & Evanishment"
in 3/4 time