The Caribbean Writer

The House of Cards

Pamela Mordecai

What are you doing? Nothing.
Saving myself from madness.
It stalks my ancient legacy
queer twisted chromosome
contorted in the rainbow
of my genes. Dealing
cards reading tarots
puffing their bright dreams
my ancestors could not know
what they do. Now I sleep
sleep do nothing hide
from my children’s friends
worry worry the bath
rooms are not clean


In the morning I sweep
dust build a house
of cards carefully
deck on deck at three
the children will come
brightly through the door
and blow it down
behind their father
careful chauffeur polished
shiner of their dreams
would not have noticed
I will collect the cards
count carefully


Copyright © Pamela Mordecai

Post a Comment

Skip to toolbar