I’m the new deck, and I’m the joker
in the pack: the divine fingernail, having
slit the cellophane, shuffles my foolishness
until every slippery bit’s interlaced.
Look, and you still won’t see it—how
each card uncannily dealt repeats in bells
and motley, numbers snaking away from
the jingling, every face card now the Fool.
The teller leaves my multiplicities face-up
on the silk and I read myself through others’
readings, all fortunes interwoven, a net of near-
meaning until an infinite hand passes over this
iterative dream, fanning me, us, back to one.