Lucky

by: Jodi Balas

They were selling them at the
school fair – the rabbit’s foot,
promising its good luck to poignant

youth. Wanting so badly to believe
in something, I slept with it every
night. Tucked it underneath my

pillow, prayed to it, wore it around my
neck like salvation. Years later and it
was still there – wedged in my back

pocket at house parties, one where
a friend’s mother OD’d. Pressed my
thumb to its furry nub while in the

hospital’s emergency room. It’s soft
paw, cloud-like would collect the
nervous beads of sweat when I walked

the backroads alone. I held onto it like
a revolver in case anyone tried to test
me. One time I squeezed it so tight I

thought I had actually killed it. The
night I wrecked my car, it was there –
dangling from the mirror, covered in

specs of red. I could almost hear it
asking “what are you so afraid of?”

About the Author

Jodi Balas is an ever-evolving neurodiverse poet from Northeast Pennsylvania. A lover of words (salacious, being a favorite – it just rolls off the tongue), her poetry has been accepted in Hole in the Head Review, Wild Roof Journal, Humana Obscura, Phoenix Rising Press, and elsewhere. Jodi’s poem, “His mouth, mine” was selected as a finalist for the 2023 River Heron Review poetry prize. Jodi has been a poetry session leader for The Think Center in Wilkes Barre, PA and is in the process of developing her first Chapbook to market to the poetry world. You could follow her musings on Instagram @jodibalas_