Green Hills Literary Lantern

 

 

 

Ode to Luck

  

At the base of the angsana tree outside Singapore Pools, tangled in the bitterweed, are losing lottery tickets—TOTO, 4D, Sweep—confetti for a party that never happened,

and something similar litters the floor of our US rental car in the summer: scratch tickets scrutinized, spent, the inky bits itched off and settled like gunmetal snow into the floor and seats:

Money becomes hope becomes trash. Losers get folded in half, while winners get pride of place in the wallet, next to the real money, to be turned into iced coffee or a Coors Light: a fine, fortuitous fate.



Beth Bayley is a writer, yoga instructor, and occasional archivist who divides her time between Massachusetts and Singapore. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Evening Street Review, Ghost City Review, Slant, Vox Poetica, and Neologism Poetry Journal, among others.