Casino

My mind is shuffling its deck tonight, slipping one card over another, letting them all fall together at the corners; the random hand of memory is dealing from the bottom of the pack. First: a bearded man emptying the dragon kiln, then a woman whistling, her face turned away as she opens the oven. Next: a big cat, six toes on each paw, climbing up the yardpole. Last: a pair of workhorses circling a tree until they grind themselves to dust. There is no one home in the world tonight. Everyone is out of range. The cradles are empty, the boughs broken down. Trees go helter-skelter and the wheel is creaking on its shaft. Hit me, I say to the dealer. Hit me again.