by Lorraine Schein
1. Fortuna’s eco-correct, green canvas cornucopia spills perfect black dots onto conveyor belts of naked red ladybugs.
2. The elephant-god forges silver horseshoes, flings one with his trunk to test on Buddha’s head—
3. Clank. Around Gautama’s neck! He grins, and spins his karmic wheel.
4. The dolphins and fu bats sit together in the cafeteria. It is not an easy friendship, squeaking in different languages. The scarab sits alone, munching old four-leaf clovers.
5. Hamsas hand-jewel their palms, fire themselves, zap the slimy evil eye crawling towards you on fly’s legs. They beckon you through turquoise synchronicity-doors to corridors of pulsing radiances.
6. Outside, the white cat pads along, bell ringing. Forepaw raised, she beckons the moon.
7. Meow. The moon is a smiling white cat.
Lorraine Schein is a New York poet and writer. Recent work will appear in Strange Horizons, Hotel Amerika, Witches & Pagans and New Letters. The Futurist’s Mistress, her poetry book, is available from Mayapple Press. She also has a story in the fantasy anthology, Alice Redux.