she wears her hair short like a boy because
she doesn't like having to worry about it
she wears tight black jeans and button up shirts
and eyeliner when she's angry

she inherited the house when her parents died
young, in a car accident, ivy covered bricks
old paned windows, high walls around the garden
if you brush aside the ivy in just the right spot
there is a small wooden door which is opened with a silver key
she lives there with a boy a few years younger than she
nobody knows him, they say he is an orphan

he came to her with nothing and at first she only gave him bread
but as they became familiar, he became curious
and now she makes soup, shoots and roasts birds,
picks and peels fruit, pours out her soul
into the bowl before him as he laps hungrily

"i want to be your equal" he says close in her ear one night
"my boy" she coos "in this world there are no equals
   but some day you will surpass me,
   and the misty paths of which i only dream
   you will stride with confidence
   and the ghostly tools that dance behind my closed eyes
   you will grasp like hammers"

she teaches the boy to tend to the plants
to turn the soil, bury seeds
the importance of water and sunlight and minerals
to harvest when the time is right
she guides his hands, she brushes dirt off on her jeans
she touches his ear, ruffles his hair, short but longer than hers

"people are like plants
   you have to feed them or they do not grow
   and they always turn their face toward the sun"
she pinches his cheek and traces his lip
"we can't help but feel the source of all power
   we can't help but worship in its presence"
he looks at her as she looks at the sky

Shuffle or draw a card.

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