POETRY: Cups & Pentacles// The Star by Margaryta Golovchenko

Margaryta Golovchenko is an undergrad student at the University of Toronto, an editor for Poached Hare, and a book reviewer for Alternating Current. Her work has appeared in publications such as Acta Victoriana, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, Contemporary Verse 2, Metatron, and others. She is also the author of two poetry chapbooks. 

Her two poems are part of a series based on daily tarot card readings, resulting in pieces that are a mixture of ekphrasis and a personal journal.

3 / Cups

When a woman sits with her legs wide open
it is cause for celebration
just like the field of dandelions, greeting spring, spreading
its arms and bursting in sporadic joy.

What happens between the legs
is a different kind of growth requiring no physical addition,
the act of blooming hidden from the florist eye,
the careful eugenicist or other pseudo-humans.

In plain sight and uncomplicated language I give to you
the evolution of humanity from leaf to bone and cage
to the air passing between spread lips, the ones with a voice
that has been silenced for so long some have forgotten its sound.

A voice worth listening to, as all sages are.
Just like all sages it too is distasteful of erroneous intentions,
of the would-be cartographers,
a rusted sword for a compass.


7 / Pentacles // The Star

Each glance at the night sky, wanting to escape
just as collapsed celestial bodies or people have vanished
over the centuries (without a trace),

is reminder of the carefully mapped chart, tiny flat
sugar cubes in red and beige that wink back at you.
A knitting diagram of what the body rejected, when it rebelled.

Each piece of me that managed to escape
because it couldn’t find a home, parts of a constellation-
in-progress in perpetual dark. Dear sky

and One True Parent,
I write to you each day without the need to diminish the role’s
universality. Help me connect the dots

without imposing, without neglecting what I left behind
several numbers and letters away (original-
as-sky) nor forgetting the length of stardust

I still have left to walk.