Misfortune

I.

My hungry hand scrapes the bottom
of the brown takeout bag
grasping the plastic wrapped
something
carrying

a fortune cookie.

II.

I pick up my phone to call you.

Punching your number in
from memory.

III.

I trash the plastic wrapper
cracking the cookie in half like a great ship
upon the rocks.

IV.

“I heard your bad news,”
I practice saying
between rings,
“I wanted to tell you, I’m thinking of you,”
and it rings back to me.

V.

There inside the cookie is a massive gathering
of nothing.

VI.

The phone goes to voicemail.

“Leave a message,” it says to me
in the ghost of a hungry voice.


Day #26 of #nationalpoetrymonth | Cover image: Kelly Sikkema