Ask the Creative Unknown how it calls you. 

It will answer in tropical donut flips  
into a concrete pool somewhere
near looking glass frost’s left field
and the pearly gated community
of the future.
 
Address who and what you serve without
hesitation. 
Your own Orion, it hunts in the spice market
for the golden hour in a jar, a vessel
of mountain peak for his breakfast,
and a small platter of rolling hills
to squeeze into the back of his freezer.
 
Ask what has returned in a new form.
A warm glow belt to pizzazz your waist.
A blush of showtime to chase
tumbleweeds into caves.
The sand in the pit of your stomach
when you hear sea serpent news.
 
 
Inspired by The Writing Prompt for Judgement from “Tarot Rituals” by Nancy C Antenucci and Paint Chip Poetry