fold

Never mind the ice in the wind carrying the covenant. Never mind the shine of the spilled milk moon. I close my eyes when there’s nowhere else to go. The dark fulfills its bargains. The sharp transition to phantom. The blood bought intention riding out the waves. I shift my feet, I change the song. Luck always takes its portion off the top. If I was a betting man, I’d bet I wasn’t.

They make a lot of playing the hand you’re dealt, but sometimes it’s smarter to fold. It depends on the game everyone’s playing, and that’s the sort of thing no one ever really knows. So much relies on the hidden stacks in other heads, on recognizing the song when it’s on. The failure to recognize that aiming doesn’t matter much to the ones you didn’t mean to wing. The tale unwound by the carousel going around and around. The ritual discarding. 

Keep it in your shoulders, keep it in your back. Keep it in the nightmares that won’t let you sleep. Even the forgotten go somewhere. Every mirror swallowed, light and all. The old song will come on, and the tears will come calling. Now the night leans in and the wind howls through. I fold without turning over one card.