lucky poem #8

she’s great.

she’s rated highly on the rich
-ter scale, wanted in twelve
countries and two states
for the way she clacks
the black, leads
between the lines.

she’s fine.

completely unperturbed
by all the violence and wasted
silence this world still screams.
she’s got three main things
(the greatest of these):
faith, hope, love.

oh, and a blossomed breeze.

when things get tainted,
painted in graffiti’d grump,
she simply says enough
and counts
(backwards, black words)
from 1
to 10.

and then:
she says
we’re all still lucky, baby,
and hands me back my pen.

 

..
In April, we poem. Usually over at Poetic Asides. 

 

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