by Shannon Brown
They say bad things come in threes.
Instead of waiting for what will happen next,
We wonder how many threes there will be this year.
That’s not a test of will towards the universe
As much as a desperate plea for mercy.
We wave the white flag,
Wondering if our whimper will be heard.
And we can finally take refuge in wistful memories
Rather than foraging through the war of what is.