Ask me what it means to be lucky
and I won’t answer
Ask me what it means to be unlucky
and I’ll ask how much time you have
God sits among las nubes plucking
fourth leaves off of clovers
before tossing them down to me
He uses his sleeve to wipe away
rainbows after rain like chalk de la pizarra
Tips off thieves about the pot of gold
so my venture is always fruitless
He puts me between a rock and a hard place
Una escalera o oncoming traffic
Un gato negro o oncoming traffic
I’m destined to trip in piles of shoulder-thrown sal
To trip and see only dead ladybugs and conejos sin pies
My horses never have shoes and
I only ever choke on wishbones
I say buena suerte to my face
en el espejo pero how many years
of bad luck is it if it breaks
while staring at your reflection
Kayla Randolph is a poet, editor, and all-around lover of the written word. She’s an associate editor at USN&WR who gets to work on content about pets and a freelancer who works on vampires and aliens with author Xavier Poe Kane. Her publication credits include but are not limited to The Beatnik Cowboy, Nixes Mate Review, and Divot: A Journal of Poetry. You can learn more on her website and see pictures of her dog Luna on her Instagram.
