(no subject)

[apartheidi]

The fate (help me think of a better title?)

I watch smoke bloom
over burning fields of poppies.

A pool of ink in my hand,
is a spilling oracle.

I polish precious stones
and a Crystal ball, filling them
with foggy reels of life that roll
like a murky eye.

I see symbols in tea leaves,
draining cup after cup.
Snakes and spades,
houses and cliffs.

To open your heart
I use a blade,
or a thumbprint twisted
in the bottom of the glass
leaving a small impression.
I know you.

I am a filter
for every living thing, and a dam
for the dead.
I am the golden spool holding
each blood wrought thread.