Bibliomancy

by Heidi Czerwiec

Stone dunes petrified mid-gust

are a palm you cannot read;

the dying lake defies your crying eyes.

You are the daring-glass

and the lark bedazzled.

Phrenology of the redrock reveals a dreamer,

anticipation his exquisite pain; perhaps

a defender of lost causes. The cards say

head west. You head west, where you dream

jellyfish bloom like dinner plates while

seals scarify their hides in inscrutable patterns.

Black cormorants shit their white stink

into the sea, where it swirls like the lees

in your wineglass. On the bluffs, you’re wondering

what your body would write on the rocks below

when you meet a stranger. Here the trail goes cold.

After endless spreads, you both decide

the cards have aligned against you.

Even lesser divinations of mice,

laughter, swinging wedding ring,

tell you nothing. You drive east, then north

and no sooner, a sparrow hits the windshield,

a special providence proclaims you’re getting warm.

The air worries with heat. Where lightning strikes

auspiciously, you find what you seek,

and your chest erupts with love.

Reading your hot entrails, we know how,

o how, your heart reeks of him.