Robert Verdon, #114, Superstition

yet again work,

paper-and-comb chest,

mudstone boulevard,

blue mallee presence,

attributes of the autumn morning

as I run for the bus in a giggling gale

under a dirty, racing nimbus

going the other way

I run from you,

God you are everywhere,

the fortune-teller at the school fête

told me I would die young

the radio said
hope is happiness
and hard work

here I am, slipping on a soft patch

slipping under the bus

untold years late