Not the breastbones of birds, forgotten
and drying on a shelf, nor the fairy seeds
of cattails and dandelions taking flight,
not the Evening Star, Venus' light,
as the night flips its dazzling switch.
Don't wish on your child's lost tooth,
clippings from tiny nails or the umbilical root.
Don't wish on the green flood
of four-leaf clovers at your feet
nor candle flames – for some are tricks
that steal your breath.
In fact, don't wish on fire of any kind
nor the little piggies of your toes,
not the soft moles on your grandmother's chin.
Rather, wish on the blue moon who comes
so seldom, you forget about her.
Now she's returned to steal your conceit
as her mouth opens to your petitions.
Karla Huston has published six chapbooks of poetry, most recently, An Inventory of Lost Things: Centennial Press, 2009. Her poems, reviews and interviews have been published widely, including in the 2012 Pushcart Best of the Small Presses anthology. Sunnyoutside Press recently published a book of collaborative poetry written with Cathryn Cofell. www.karlahuston.com
