The Arcana of the Mind, by Sophie Doulut

Furnace In the middle of the furnace,A wild fawn sets before the Devil his ace,On the trunk cut in half,Playing cards despite his burnt leg calf. The squirrel matches the colourOf the flame that made ashesOut of the early morning white hour,Before the full sun on the Earth crashes. Dante’s fires of Hell swallowAll the tints and hues of the forest,Big mouths wide open sticking red tongues out,Licking even the branch on which rests a swallow,So, it cannot herald victory at its best –Better be ...