a gipsy calls

 1955 ~ a gipsy calls

like autumn

she came to the door

cross-my-palm-with-silver

(my mother reiterated to me)

as she brought in the fist

of wooden pegs

and her quizzical look

(reiterating her fortune told)

i glimpsed the gold earring rings

the dark curled locks spilling

either side of a bronzed face

the gold red bandana scarf

and a strange accent retreating

with the jangle of her bracelets

into next time

i never did find the sparkle

that was missing from her eyes

or understand the dread that followed her

out of the village