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untitled iii
I am amongst
The lucky ones -
The ones who are alive
While they still get to breathe.
Poems on the topic: luck
Poems on the topic “luck” on Poets.by.
Luck
On the third & last day
of bear season, the hunter returns
to his perch on the boulder
more from habit than any realistic hope.
But every rustle in the leaves
still summons up the childhood
excitement of static on
a shortwave radio: some signal
that might come in, given patience
& a delicate touch.
So when the bear appears,
his breathing scarcely changes,
the rifle rises to his shoulder,
the scope to his eye
& the world
grows closer
Painstaking
where are my great pains
to defend me against my will
if the new ship is called Luck
am I her on-shore rat
Lucky
the stone grew a mouth
for the mist
not for the haze
but mistress enough
on that irregular ground
it is a strange blockhead luck
to be loved
Luck (2)
This is the story
of the banjo jubilee:
the pregnant woman
lays her hand on a banjo
for good luck.
The burglar flees
at the sight of a banjo
over his left shoulder.
A dog sees a banjo
go yellow in alpenglow
& begins to howl.
The coyotes answer
with a yip & a yelp
& an ai-ai-ai.
The locksmith pauses
to listen on his way
Luck
Saved by a banjo, she turned
into someone forever glancing
in the rear-view mirror,
someone given to sudden,
unpredictable spasms of laughter.
The amount of space
her arms now claimed with
their emphatic gesticulations
alarmed even herself:
how unladylike!
She stopped smoking & enrolled
in truck-driving school
because, she said, she didn’t
ever want to slow down.
She’d pull into rest areas
on the high plains, hold
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