Five of Cups

lie to me
card of gods,
and deny the spilt wine
from your cups.
you look to the horizon
refusing to heed the omen of ill-luck
that soaks your feet.
then closing your tired eyes
to see the promised ace of cups
in the mountains beyond seeing.
garbed in the black of anticipation
and shadowed by a distant cloud:
a murmuring
a deep-voiced prayer to the sea,
a solitary tear silently grazing
the cheek of Fate

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