This week the cosmos will
open you like a new moon
in a big empty bed.
Mercury is in retrograde, which means
you will not understand your grandmother’s
language, even when she repeats herself
over and over, her mouth right next to your ear.
You will lose money. You will
find money in a sock on the sidewalk
and depending on whether or not
you’ve been touched,
you will hand it over. You will offer your hand
to whoever promises to love it. Use
the stars to determine the direction
of your one foot in relation to your
father’s foot on this day in this month
decades ago. You might
wash your body compulsively, praying
that the bathroom fog will transform you
into a brand new animal. You might
feel a churning in your belly
from too little or too much peace.
You will have questions. You will look
for answers in the mouths of people
who do not know you. That is magic.
Do not Do not Do not
believe that any of this is magic.
You will have a dream that
a rabbit is falling out of your body,
begging you to be it’s mother.
Be it’s mother. Be your own mother.
This week, the stars will
align in the shape of your shoulder blades.
They will flex into a pair of wings.
They will hover over your body
until you agree to give up the ground.