Tuesday, 30 November 2010

Superstition

i cross fingers
wish on mail vans
send out a prayer
to the train
thundering over my head
i toss salt over my shoulder
kiss my fingers at the solitary bird
always keep the label up
on my blanket
and i don’t dog ear books
or throw stones at small creatures
i bite my tongue
when i utter a curse
don black beads
don’t make a face
when the wind is blowing
and i don’t crack my knuckles or elbows
or drink
wear synthetic
or miss a call
all of this to no avail
you still left
you still left
after all.