Magdeleno

When the gypsy read my palm
She traced down some line’s crease
As it splintered and divided
And then looked me in the eyes:
«Your future is a bell curve
Which the same as hers and his and hers
And if you do not stress it
It will not swerve
It will remain but a bell curve
With a singular ring
Nothing more than a ding
Whereas if you attempt to hold it back
Blockading its track
It’s timbre won’t crack
Just course into a cauldron
Whose call drones a cacophony of strings»
And so I looked her in her eyes
And to her earthen surprise
I said: «Yes
Yet you sit in this seat
And live through others' lives
Then take your pennies to the teller
To calculate the size
Another seer who’s a eunuch
And every eunuch lies
What’s the other option
For a bosom that denies?»
«I see you point. I understand,»
She said still holding my hand
And thus I anointed Lady Jesus
With my oils from the sand