Fortune

Three times a car rolls over the embankment;
but someone walks away before it bursts into flames—

Thieves break in through the dining room window and slit
a chair cover open to carry out what they stole—

The broken clock in the hallway strikes the hour
and so you know it is time to leave—

A letter soft with creases comes to your door
from an address you haven’t lived at in years—

In the interstices of brick, wasps have patiently
hollowed out a nest, both coffin and crib—

 

In response to Via Negativa: Poem for Display in a Public Library.

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