Abigail Wender

Give me dice, sticks, stones, knucklebones,
read the dog's liver, bird's flight.
If I choose a god to worship,
if I pin a white flag in my lapel,
will I find him pocketing my last twenty?
Where are the gods at this moment!
Why shouldn't I kneel and pray?
Where is the oath I took, the purposeful life?
Where's my ace-in-the-hole, rabbit's foot, four-leaf clover?
That's what he was, my brother.
No more his orphan mouth.
Why can't I kneel and pray?
Last week his clock stopped,

I let myself out the window, down the fire escape.
The days pant.
The days hang by their nails.