The Capture

A Poem by John F

My queen is at the kitchen table
cleansing her tarot deck again.
She doesn’t want past readings
To interfere with new ones.

She lights an incense of sage
And rosemary and let’s the smoke
Pass over the cards.
Not for too long so the smoke
Doesn’t cause the beautiful
Illustrations to fade.

If that doesn’t work
She’ll leave them on
the windowsill overnight
With a natural stone.
She tells me
The moonlight will draw
Out the last of
The trapped energy.

As always she is wearing
Her black tourmaline pendant
To cleanse her heart of past lovers.
She doesn’t want them interfering
With this new one.

I am at the stove preparing
A Turkish coffee for her.
I carefully pour
The dark brown liquid
From a copper cevze,
And serve it to her
In a porcelain cup.

She doesn’t like sweet things
So I don’t add sugar.

When she’s finished she’ll write about
The patterns the coffee ground
Has left in the residue.

I wonder what it will tell her about us.

Sometimes I swear I can see
A white glow travelling from her body
into the pendant, and I wonder
If it was the full moon
Gifting her the power of forgiveness.