I am releasing the stiffness:
years of posing, postured
and pacing, chasing
gratification.
I’m indulgent at
least, greedy when
touched and hoarding.

when you drop the straw,
the miracle happens.

clutching at the edges of everything
for security, my life of
picked up pennies and
spinal pain from bending over
and taking it, from being prideful
in my penurious form,

twisting myself into smaller
shapes.

crowned and the oracle reminds me
of that swirling storm,
I’m near to, right outside
and.
 heavy is the head
that little lie about
choice.

“the tower” or “two of swords”