The Last Plank

Featuring one witch cackle I let slip out

Welcome, and a warm first hello to the newcomers!

I’m so happy you’re here.

Each of these Sunday poetry collections centers loosely around a tarot card, and this week we’re checking in with The Chariot.

This card reminds me that I can find self-mastery when I embrace the experience of change.

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CONTENTS:

1. Theseus’s Girl

2. Sparrow’s Eye

THESEUS'S GIRL  

The last plank shook loose. 
I became something new. 
I’m no longer Theseus’s girl. 
I’m no longer craning my neck to the world, 
And now I’m not sure what to do with this fine ship, 
But I know I’m done with the bullshit. 
I’m not skilled at the peaceful drift, 
Unsure if I’m allowed to enjoy the gift of a good life. 
Who’s running the show? 
Guess I’ll be my own wife.   

The last plank shook loose.  
The scent of baking squash. 
Wooden spoon with slender handle. 
Lemon suds as the dishes are hand-washed. 
Aromatic Yankee Candles from the mall just down the street. 
These are memories that should be sweet, 
Not safety-flipping trigger-pullers that wipe my mind clean. 
Used to send me on a bender: 
I drank so much, I flushed that splinter free.  

(That's not true,
Just kidding. 
That’s not how it works at all. 
Getting drunk never made me feel less small, 
Never led me into spaces with kind words and friendly faces, 
Never brought me into situations that encouraged my good graces. 
Only made me stumble, babe, it only made me fall. 
I never could pickle the pain by marinating it in alcohol.)  

The last plank shook loose.  
That pants-shitting fear did not come from the clear blue, 
It was planted early, so it has deep roots. 
It claimed space in my sky to unfurl, 
It churned the everyday into a minefield for this unwilling girl.   

The last plank shook loose. 
It didn’t take much, 
Just hope, and a shimmy each day, 
A belief that there is blue above the gray.  

The last plank shook loose, 
And now it’s a weapon swung wide in my hands. 
It’s giving me space to create some new plans, 
To explore broader lands that could, perhaps, accept me, 
It’s a mic and a backing band and I’m singing:  
“Invest in me, 
I’m real,  
I have needs and feelings, 
I survived just to show how good I am at healing.”  

The last plank shook loose, 
As do the hips on this shrike. 
Like I said before, 
I’m not Theseus’s girl. 
I am my own wife.   

SPARROW'S EYE 

Wheat reaches for sky: 
Rattles in the gusting wind, 
Catches sparrow’s eye.