That sounds like a good idea. Here's The High Priestess:
THE HIGH PRIESTESS
ONE
You balance red and white
Lit only by the moon, your bedside light
By which you read a book
A feminist text
With implications for your counterparts.
It weights you on your
throne,
A weight in equilibrium with your strength.
The certainty behind your eyes is veiled
As you are veiled.
I have a question for you.
Will you reply
Or are you scared to share your mystery?
TWO
You ask who I am. Very well.
Names have been drawn to me
As moths to a candle. They dance
Around my face, but never settle.
The greatest wisdom lies in naming well.
One labelled me Sophia, which God knows is
A flattering but inexact summation
Of qualities I bear. Another way
To put this is to call me Hecate,
For we can have no plus without a minus.
A third damned me as Lilith. All these three
When bound into uneasy harmony
Trace shadow outlines of my form. Consider:
How far do names reveal their subject's nature
Or do they rather force extremities?
Your task is to balance these.
Behind me you will see a door.
The door is closed, and I sit in your path.
How will you pass through it? For you must
But first you have to understand my word.
THREE
Years gather dust in this annexe.
The dust lies deep.
Tracing regular figures with a stick,
Shaping forms that move with hesitant feet,
These pass the time, but the time passes wider
Of the mark fixed upon. Pails of sand
Hang waiting for the fire that does not kindle.
There is a tinder box, but it is locked.
Where is the jailer with his hoop of keys?
FOUR
There is no jailer. Better to wait for
The visitor who walks in unannounced,
Who stoops to listen when you do not speak.
Then you will feel heat without a fire.
Then you will hear hopeful creaking sounds.
Then you will name names, and then begin.
The door is open. You must play or pass.
