Cutting Your Losses

I wish you had never said that you were

cutting your losses.

 

Like a paper snowflake

you see the holes

 

like I would.

You are not cynicism,

 

you are esoteric paganism,

aligned stars and synchronicity.

 

Consulted the I Qing on an outfit,

left the house naked.

 

I rolled my eyes,

I didn’t even try.

 

Said, flip those cards,

narrate my fate

 

negate my insight,

tell me my dreams.

 

You could never understand

how a dream was just that:

 

ephemeral,

and trapped in sleep.

 

Maybe you understand now.

Your Tarot set is on Kijiji.

 

Your rent is due,

there is no hexagram for that.

 

Amethyst and jade adorn your neck,

but cash is now your yoke.

 

Won’t take money transfers

from me anymore, though.

 

Won’t read my palm,

won’t even respond to my texts.

 

You said you were

cutting your losses.

 

I wish you had said

you were only cutting your hair.

 

At least then

I could see it grow back.

 

I wouldn’t roll my eyes.

I would try.

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