Luck

my luck
spun over backwards
won in a moment when,
boxing gloves connected.

championship grinings
griot aged pennings
in aged ink for the listener
to shove in cannisters tight
with no air.

keeping them hushed for the century.
moments hidden in a time warp,
frozen hand claps and confetti bursts,
open mouths form forbidden curses.
a camera flash.
white light.
eclipsed crescent
bright, over the blood soaked moment.

my luck.

celebrated and hated by
the passersby of a cemented life gone dry.
dry as a pile of crisp leaves
in mounds for my kid to kick and scatter
sending his youth up to heaven,
in a cyclone of wind patterns

free

my kid... my luck
pulled toffee and red etouffe baby
mama didnt thicken his creole gravy

my luck.

sullied with a boiling passion for
razor blades over yards of satin
hot stoves far as the eye can see
touched again and again
and again, by me
to make sure that im real
that i exist in the quick sand
as it sticks to the sole of my soul
and im not one to gamble a dollar

stingy

i must have got that from my father
he miesered all his love and his money from me
hungry, i got by on
luck
at it everyday
breakfast and lunch
thought it was the way things go

went

till it was gone

spent

now luck can't pay half the rent

my luck.

spun over backwards
lost in a moment when
all love disconnected