by Nicholas Shellabarger

They say it’s good luck,

this act of pulling one finger over another

hiding a shy knuckle

veiling a wrinkled bride

holding back an impolite pointer

or occupying the deviant middleman.

You may catch someone

working with both hands,

forming a symmetrical balance

of innocence and naivety.

Or you may come across

some youthful zealot

pulling one arm across the other

twisting knees and ankles

crossing the knobbiness of elbows

going cross-eyed from the effort.

A tangled, twisted knot of good fortune.

They say it’s good luck—

It works for everyone just the same.