The Phone Psychic’s Daughter by Julia St. Clair

I want to be one of her patrons,

a soul who has wandered off the path in life,

who needs to be made new.

I hear them calling—

every minute, every hour,

every day, and every night.

She starts her sessions by asking

for simple things, a name and the day they were born.

That’s how she initiates her magic.

That’s how each discussion has begun.

She takes the letters,

grabs the numbers, and slices simplicity

by its throat.

She says six means

intuition that is born straight from

the heart. “Use it well,” she warns,

“Six can make you creative or

Self-destructive.”

Now she matches what she’s said

for six for two, purring its

pure intuition. “Don’t fear

it,” she mutters. “Develop it.

Overcome obstacles from the heart or else

they’ll come back to haunt you.”

Next I peer as she takes out

the cards, and shuffles the deck

before telling her beloveds

of what’s to come in their futures

along with what occurred in lives past.

Then she ends it, snatching their contribution

through more numbers, to reward her

for her services. A dollar a minute

she charges for them to know

what’s going on. I want

to be just like her, until

my father picks me up. He hears

what I tell him, and calls her a fraud

for violating mankind’s thoughts.