Friday the 13th

Not tripping
under ladders, the girl
wears lips
on a t-shirt, men

block the entrance
to anywhere
she might want

to pass through
to escape hidden
meanings—but
there were none.

Witness or Survivor

Superstition and obsession
get married—will it 

last, will it to last.
Three turns east,
the left hand leads.

Talking to the Streets

To avoid loose
structure, she steps around
the porous stretches
of your concrete skin. 

Call it superstition—don’t
step on the crack in any sidewalk.
She calls it the wise
way to construct 

a commitment from you
in a faithless world. If 

she believes you can
hold her up, will she believe
you will? Strike out
the ending and the sag 

in the middle, she seeks
a taut you, abhors
the tremulous, falls asleep
to the vibrations rising 

through the grate,
a compressed force
she would not dare deny.