27 March 2007

Writing Society, March 2007

Unswayed by runes

Today will be the day.
My feet don't touch the smallest
Crack in the pavement.
Just twelve birds on the railing, good.

I dodge round a ladder.
A four-leaf clover beckons
Me to snatch it up.
Touch the wooden gate for fortune.

You wave. A horseshoe brooch,
Fastened, by a single pin
We found, to your blouse.
Red sky last night means fair weather.

My luck is sure, in place, there is no doubt.
And yet the age-old curse must take its grip.
In silence still, the words 'I love you' beat
Against the cage in which my tongue is trapped.

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