I may play the joker, ***** the knave, covet the queen, and tuck the ace of spades under my pillow on a ringed moon night, but I am forever shuffling the same deck of cards. Marked cards, imprinted with loss and patterned with misfortune. Co urt cards dressed in ill-fitting suits, each face as familiar as my own. Four seasons, four pips; twelve months, twelve crowns. One card for each week of the year. Sequentially pred ictable, and as underwhelming as a rigged roulette wheel. U ntil, unable to distinguish between the red and the b lack, the picture and the plain, I fold. Void of co ntracts, and bleeding widowe d blanks. .....So..... deal me in, but deal me unpainted and unmastered. Deal me clean.
‘If I can just have one last cut. Do you have a plan for the new?‘ - Alice Notley, In the Pines