Still Life with Three Skulls

I wish I had a card heart,
strawberry-red & molting;

But I am
inverted & blackened: who wants
to be the ace of spades?
Three friends who cannot engage
      the brown spirits:
speak evil, see evil, look
to the stars for a sense of perspective.
      Candle svelte like a V2,
a thing like a tongue, backlit
fishnet cathedral glass.
       Everything's in the cards
if the cards are marked & there's
a sodden old handkerchief tucked
     up your sleeve.  Perspective
gets distorted when you're yucking
it up with the boys.  O to be
a joker instead of the suicide
king, always plunging
     the saber deeper when
all you wanted was to
scratch
what itched
you & carve your name
          into the table
before getting lost toward the bottom
of that unlocked dresser drawer.