an Aotearoa poetry journal | ISSN 2744-3248

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Tarot #07
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Tarot #01

Glazed Donuts

In the café from hell
where one endures strangers’ stares
under a fluorescent glare
things have finally started to gel
as I nibble round the hole
of a lump of sugary deep-fried dough.
I’m thinking, I can see now
I can see the light,
and I’m knowing
really knowing
that everything will be alright
in my sad madness
as the last sane person
on the planet.