for CottonWords open mic (8/15/25)
1
I watched a black cat
swagger under a ladder
and wondered “now what”?
2
Every culture has superstitions;
every culture places
fear and hope, like an egg,
in the hands of the unseen.
3
Walking home from school,
I tried to avoid every crack
in the sidewalk,
but I was 8 and daydreaming,
forgot what I was doing,
then felt so relieved:
there was my mother,
standing at the kitchen sink.
4
Prayer is superstition — isn’t it? —
words whispered
into clasped hands
from bended knee.
5
“Knock on wood”
is a multicultural superstition.
Every culture has wood.
Every culture has hope.
6
I said I wasn’t superstitious
but I never stepped on the
first baseline
when I ran onto the field.
7
We owned a black cat
named “Boo.” He never brought
us bad luck but once he brought
a dead sparrow into the house.
So there is that.
8
I should have called this “four ways
of looking at superstition.”
If I had stopped,
I may not have remembered “Boo”
and the dead bird.
9
Four is a bad luck number in Japan because it has very nearly the same pronunciation as “death.”
10
I threw threadbare shirts out the open window. Then the leather chair. The ottoman followed. My rickety old writing desk. They served their use. Threw old dishes that shattered atop the pile. Then a box of books, myths and misconceptions. A folder of old stories erupted —
stale ideas drifted down like dying embers.
11
They say that wearing red underwear on New Year’s Eve brings good luck in the coming year. I know what my wife is getting for Christmas.
12
Maybe I’ll nail a horseshoe above the kitchen door like the one my Aunt Mary hung next to her kitchen clock.
Extend an invitation,
embrace good luck with open arms.
13
I’ve never found a four-leaf clover in the wild. I’ve blown out candles with a wish. I’ve made a wish on a falling star. I’ve made a wish. I’ve made a wish. With fingers crossed, I’ve made a wish.