By Jo Boustead
I read the cards
long ago,
my fate was sealed
with champagne and bones.
A dance with the Devil,
wicked but sweet,
alone in the throne room
we were always discreet.
Grasping at the Heavens,
wings torn from flesh;
feathers matted with blood,
the price I paid to confess.
Cast into the darkness
flames lick my skin,
the Devil, once my foe,
the protector of my sin.