Hello again! I apologize for the large gap between my last post and this one, I’ve been quite busy with life. I recently just got back from a two month trip in Europe where I was wwoofing, adventuring, and meeting new people.
I wanted to post some of the poetry that I wrote during this trip, and I would love feedback if you’re willing.
This was written in Ireland during the first leg of our journey, it has no title as of yet…
I remember sitting alone in my room,
shuffling a pack of cards until my fingers grew blisters.
I can do a bridge now.
My fingers do it from memory.
The familiar flick of card against skin a welcome touch,
rather than a painful pinch.
I like the old decks best.
The ones who’s corners are torn and fraying.
Their backs bend easily and without fuss.
It’s just another day at the office.
The silky new cards slide around on my fingers,
confused like a lost traveler in a foreign country.
Bending the wrong way like an unruly toddler that only wants attention.
Whenever the flick of cards raps against the table I’m immediately overtaken by memories of blanket forts and mac and cheese.
Of hours spent playing cards because we weren’t into video games.
The moment when we went from saying B.S. to Bull Shit and not caring that people heard.
The memories of many airports,
filled with rushing people.
A game of solitaire keeping the stress and anxiety out of my head.
The flash lit card games in thin walled tents that were filled with muffled giggles and many yawns.
The cards sliding around on the soft sleeping bags, blocking someone’s view.
It’s one of the easiest ways to break the ice.
Ruffle a pack of cards and spread them out.
Pick a card, any card.
Bringing up the image of a wide eyed girl who thought it was actual magic and not a small trick being performed.
I would be a magician if I did card tricks to a young audience.
Their large eyes never catching the other finger that slides across the table to catch a jack and hide it away for later.
Cards should be taken everywhere.
School
Work
Travel
You’ll meet new people.
Strengthen new bonds.
Refresh old friendships.
Where ever it may be, the flick of cards will always remind me of sitting on my bedroom floor,
and shuffling over and over
and over and over
and over and over
and over and over again
© Autumn Micketti
Autumn Micketti 