Learning to Read
  Marie-AndrĂ©e Auclair

Three cards lay face down on the table,
staff or spade, court or trump.
I close my eyes
blow on my fingertips
to air-dry them, or bless them, or both.
Familiar ants, crawling under my skin,
freeze when I flip over the first card
and contemplate its face.

The Magician looks at me over his altar
flashes why do you want to know?
I wince as why aims its laser-light
on my cluster of questions and desires,
fears and flaws, points at pairs
already framing answers.

Past Issues Contact and Submissions About The Steel Chisel Author Profiles