Reading at Tepotzlán
by Sydney Solis
The tarot card reader was from Argentina.
Aged 40ish. Didn't speak much English.
A pack of Camel straights on the table
Aged 40ish. Didn't speak much English.
A pack of Camel straights on the table
next to a blue candle.
Streaks of grey like stray, single broom stalks
sprang from long black hair.
Beautiful face with a hard life,
she is the white calla lily painted
sprang from long black hair.
Beautiful face with a hard life,
she is the white calla lily painted
on the blue talavera pitcher,
pouring deepness down the throat,
breathing in burning sandalwood.
The center of the universe, her eyes,
everything watering down into black ink.
We sat at the table.
She sat to my right.
She drew The World card.
Este viaje, es como un sueño de tu vida.
Yes, she's right.
Coming to live in Mexico was everything to me.
Her finger tap, tap, tapped the card.
Veas esta tarjeta?
See this card?
Esta mujer,
Me, the nude Venus floating in the middle of a bough of green.
Eres tu. It's me.
Y este anillo alrededor de ella. This ring around her.
Es tu madre. It's your mother.
I think of my violent mother back home in Colorado.
Tienes que huir de la madre. You have to get out of the mother.
Este hombre. This man. She tapped the card’s left-hand corner
where a picture of man’s head floated
I think of Frank, who pursued me down here.
Es muy parecido a tu madre. He is a lot like your mother.
Tienes que irte, huir. You have to go, get out.
Es algo muy difícil de hacer. It's a very difficult thing to do.
Pero tienes que irte. But you have to get out.
I didn’t say anything else.
With a few minutes left of the reading I asked.
When will I be successful?
She just stared at me.
She just stared at me.
You will be successful when you get a paintbrush, can hold it with your vagina and you can paint your own name with it.
That's what she said.
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