Kerosene Chronicle

Let the cards shuffle
How they may

But I’d be best hoping
I’m on the right side
Of the dealer’s hand.

When the shuffling’s done
And the cards tumble,
I want only the right ones
Coming my way;

When it comes time for the cards divide
I don’t want to be left weeping and moping.
As and when they turn,
I don’t wish to find the devil’s hand again.

This is my prayer
On a shot of whiskey
And magical swirls of smoke.

Now deal the cards,
Let fate be the wind
That guides my sails
In this deep, wide sea
Where all I see on the water’s surface
Is a crescent falling from the sky
And a couple of shiny dots
Twinkling in the void.

I pray she favours me;
That she doesn’t turn into a storm,
Leave me floating out there
With driftwood my only comfort
And an intangible crescent moon
To keep me warm.

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eduard696dantes

his name rhymes with ‘mince’. He’s rarely without a notebook and can usually be found next to the closest bottle of red wine. Previously a writer for The Roehampton Lane Journal.

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