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
