Let the rabbits keep their
feet. How lucky could they be
if the rabbits lost them, anyway?
There is nothing ominous about crossing paths
with a black cat; although, my mouse
would tell you differently –if he could—
but he’s a mouse
that crossed paths with a black cat.
Do not fret over spilled salt
unless it’s on your plate. That’s hypertension.
Walking around ladders is just good OSHA procedure.
A broken mirror is nothing to fear
unless you’re picking up the pieces with your bare hands
or unless it shattered just by you looking at it.

I’ve always considered superstition silly
and superfluous stress. But you can bet
every blown out birthday candle or dandelion,
every shooting star, every rainbow, every fallen eyelash,
every dismantled turkey carcass I made a wish.

Have you ever desired something you couldn’t see
but you could feel?
Like maybe how Adam, laying out at night
looking up at the stars, couldn’t see Eve’s face—
he hadn’t yet even seen a woman, after all—
but he could feel
for that which he yearned,
felt the aching deep in his ribs.

I dared dream a dream of a woman.
Unlike Adam, I’ve seen women before; but
I couldn’t see this one. Yet, every time I closed my eyes
she visited me. I felt her.
And for her I yearned.
In some ways, sleeping was preferable
to waking, just to be saved the torment of loneliness.
For this dream woman I kept making wishes.
Only, now when I close my eyes she is not there.

I am afraid I am an unlucky man, now.
So, despite the silliness, I do all the things.
Desperately.
I carry a rabbit’s foot;
don’t own an umbrella lest it open inside accidentally;
cook turkeys often just to wish on their bones;
only season my food with pepper.
I’m careful walking down the sidewalk
just in case my mother’s back really is in danger;
terrified of the number immediately after 12;
almost faint holding my breath in tunnels.
I excessively feed birds in the park, hopeful
that they’ll **** on my head.

There are phrases often said in disaster,
when catastrophe strikes but at least you didn’t die:
look on the bright side, silver lining,
fortunate misfortune.
But what are the opposite terms?
To be so lucky that you’re met with misfortune?
What if luck is like a battery or a retirement fund
and once you use it all, it’s gone for good?

See, when I close my eyes, no longer
can I rendezvous with the woman in my dreams—
that’s not where she dwells, anymore.
Dream woman is now just woman, a reality
right next to me when I open my eyes.
I can reach out and touch her, reach out and love her.
I open my arms wide like snake jaws,
envelope her, gorge myself on her love.
And I am so afraid to let her go.
I am so afraid.
I am so afraid that the day we met
I used up all my good luck