While Wearing the Wrong Talisman

The radio turned on by itself.
It played a Cubs-Mets game from nineteen-sixty-nine.

The mirror turned black.
It chose to absorb light rather than reflect it.

My clothes rained
when I wore them outside under the sun.

Gold rings are bad in Fairy Tales
so I refused to give one to my beloved at our wedding.

A towhee perched above our sleep
caught our dreams like moths.

A flicker pecked ear-worms
out of my drummed head.

In a curiosity shop we came upon
a crucifix pencil.

To write a poem the Christ’s head bobbed
back and forth with google-eyes.

copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney

2 thoughts on “While Wearing the Wrong Talisman

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