If a mouse frightened a pregnant woman

                      by John Skoyles

Hypnotized

My grandmother called me to the porch

of our railroad flat which overlooked

backyard plots divided by discarded

window frames, Christmas trees, and

doors on their sides. She pointed

to a snake on the handrail, and a finch

on the post, saying the snake

had hypnotized the bird. Their eyes

were locked. I never paid attention

to those superstitious tales from her native Italy –

if a mouse frightened a pregnant woman

and she grabbed her throat in panic,

a rodent-shaped mark would appear

on the newborn's neck. I was thinking
about this when the bird flew toward
the snake who opened his mouth and swallowed it.

Borges

The book dealer collected Borges firsts,

so when that blind writer

lectured nearby, he stood on line

to have them signed.

Stacking each volume on the rostrum

and naming it,

the dealer clicked his pen,

handing it to Borges who said

even he did not own such rare works,

and clicked the pen again.

Too polite to comment, the dealer

walked away, every signal invisible.

From The American Poetry Review, January/February 2015.