Adam Farcus - Humble Superstitions (digital photograph) 2011
and an in-process poem, started at the Neighborhood Writing Alliance (NWA - for serious, that is what they go by!) last week:
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Coal City Superstitions
"It brings bad luck to play cards across the grain of a table."
Kentucky Superstitions. Daniel Lindsay Thomas, Ph D. 1920.
If the cows are laying down in the pasture, it will rain soon.
A girl thrown from her bed by a ghost will grow freckles over her bruises.
If you stomp on a rat, and it doesn't die, your mill is in trouble.
A neighbor's haunted attic should always be unfinished on the west side.
A lucky penny, once washed, will no longer be lucky.
A broken bone, caused by falling into a mine shaft, will heal with guidance of drowned miners. When the weather is wet, the bone will hurt in memory of the mine's spirits.
The backyard of trauma will always be dug up.
The left thumb will turn black in sympathy for a smashed right one, and vice-versa.
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