I Never Learned to Shuffle

Cards cling together,

but break in colliding

waterfalls of cardboard

not ending in order

but creating chaos of red

and black.

The game returns order,

Patterns picked and piled,

but once complete are

returned back to the sea

to find new

places to hide.

The sound of the shuffle

shocks and splashes and

continues until

the split resurrects

one card to the top.

Who splits? If I knew

the answer, death would end

and magic would not

require a magician;

your card would always be

known.

Bio:

I am an educator and writer in the central valley of California. I’ve written non-fiction for publication in a journalistic outlet, but this is my first foray in the poetry domain

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