The Silence of Trees
Tarot Spread
Liliana pointed to the first card in the very center. Golden spirals and flowers surrounded two young lovers.
“This first card is an image of you today, a sketch of your heart. . .The Lovers."
Read an Interview with the Vorozhka--the fortuneteller--Liliana.
Liliana pointed to the first card in the very center. Golden spirals and flowers surrounded two young lovers.
“This first card is an image of you today, a sketch of your heart. . .The Lovers."
Read an Interview with the Vorozhka--the fortuneteller--Liliana.
The Lovers
First he gives you his heart. You slice open the fruit, count the seeds. Bitter to the tongue, planted in foreign soil, they will not grow. You will remember the sweet taste on your lips, even as it burns your throat into silence.
First he gives you his heart. You slice open the fruit, count the seeds. Bitter to the tongue, planted in foreign soil, they will not grow. You will remember the sweet taste on your lips, even as it burns your throat into silence.
Queen of Swords
Night shimmers in the reflection of your knife, a woman alone in a grove of dying silver firs. Her palms full of wind, she tries to swallow the song falling off the lips of her grandmother.
But the dead only whisper, “Come home.
Night shimmers in the reflection of your knife, a woman alone in a grove of dying silver firs. Her palms full of wind, she tries to swallow the song falling off the lips of her grandmother.
But the dead only whisper, “Come home.
The Star
Your calloused hands cradle steaming bread, not for your lips. One foot slips into backward waters; the other is held by a child who eats moist crumbs. Starlight splashes into her empty eyes as you leave her behind to swim. Click of a lock, you arrive, place the bread in a broken cradle.
Your calloused hands cradle steaming bread, not for your lips. One foot slips into backward waters; the other is held by a child who eats moist crumbs. Starlight splashes into her empty eyes as you leave her behind to swim. Click of a lock, you arrive, place the bread in a broken cradle.
The Emperor
He shatters silence with a fist dripping honey. From open palms fall crushed bees, a Queen, her children.
Your mother kisses apologies off his lips, buries them behind the barn. Later, you will run from the man carrying a honeycomb, while your child kicks inside.
He shatters silence with a fist dripping honey. From open palms fall crushed bees, a Queen, her children.
Your mother kisses apologies off his lips, buries them behind the barn. Later, you will run from the man carrying a honeycomb, while your child kicks inside.
Page of Clubs
Red light slips from slit of sky and sea. Your shadow stretches, slides across an oak, breaks a branch to strike against the surface of the moon. Blurring your edges, she lifts the veil from your eyes, your lips; arouses your voice. Pointing her torch, she reveals blood letters in the sand.
Red light slips from slit of sky and sea. Your shadow stretches, slides across an oak, breaks a branch to strike against the surface of the moon. Blurring your edges, she lifts the veil from your eyes, your lips; arouses your voice. Pointing her torch, she reveals blood letters in the sand.
The Devil
A crow cries your father’s name, omens joining like chains around your ankles.
Asleep under a wagon, you see flames, finger bones, a wedding band. With the dawn, you follow the sun to see corpses. Thirsty, you find the well filled with ashes, angry ghosts.
A crow cries your father’s name, omens joining like chains around your ankles.
Asleep under a wagon, you see flames, finger bones, a wedding band. With the dawn, you follow the sun to see corpses. Thirsty, you find the well filled with ashes, angry ghosts.
Seven of Cups
You plant the seed on a grave, water it with time. Grown, seven branches will stretch back, bear tiny red berries on golden leaves rounded with rust. You eat the fruit, bitter to the tongue. Ghosts gather, trace patterns in the grass, settle into your palms as you harvest tears for winter.
You plant the seed on a grave, water it with time. Grown, seven branches will stretch back, bear tiny red berries on golden leaves rounded with rust. You eat the fruit, bitter to the tongue. Ghosts gather, trace patterns in the grass, settle into your palms as you harvest tears for winter.
The Falling Tower
The path ends before the tallest oak. You grab hold of roots as the ground rumbles, breaks away, crumbles into the river below. Bleeding fingers, scraped palms, you climb up toward the top where the moon bathes you raw. Beneath you, a body floats beside broken trees
in the rapids rushing away.
The path ends before the tallest oak. You grab hold of roots as the ground rumbles, breaks away, crumbles into the river below. Bleeding fingers, scraped palms, you climb up toward the top where the moon bathes you raw. Beneath you, a body floats beside broken trees
in the rapids rushing away.
The Sun
Sharp tails of midnight dreams poke you under straw, steer you to the garden bright with sunflowers. You curl around tomatoes, potatoes, beets. Grasses kiss your cheek, your neck; whisper your name. You knead the moist soil, listen to the lullaby beneath the roots.
Sharp tails of midnight dreams poke you under straw, steer you to the garden bright with sunflowers. You curl around tomatoes, potatoes, beets. Grasses kiss your cheek, your neck; whisper your name. You knead the moist soil, listen to the lullaby beneath the roots.
Ten of Coins
Darkness strokes your skin, crushes you against the curve of an ancient cave. Led by light you find the center, steal into the circle, dance with your sister. Together you trace paintings on the walls, break bread brushed with cinnamon, search the soil for stones, begin to build.
Darkness strokes your skin, crushes you against the curve of an ancient cave. Led by light you find the center, steal into the circle, dance with your sister. Together you trace paintings on the walls, break bread brushed with cinnamon, search the soil for stones, begin to build.