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Poem
August 13th, 2021 – twenty two years since...

Wicked bad designed day poem originally crafted
then alternately titled for no particular rhyme nor reason: 
courtesy Doctor Donald Dossey  
who coined paraskevidekatriaphobia. 

August thirteenth nineteen hundred and ninety nine
forever etched in the annals of my personal infamy
as one still sending hair raising shivers down my spine
which following unpleasant details occurred on a street
that branched off kind of like a fork tine
adjacent to one named Woodbine.

Prior to the following awful events 
that unfolded aforementioned day
somewhat solemn and gray
I did not consider myself unduly superstitious 
nor prone to bouts of triskaidekaphobia/ 
paraskevidekatriaphobia  no how no way.
 
Yet that particular Friday 
the thirteenth baptized me
in the bloody waters of superstition unequivocally 
whence upon waking said particular morning
the search for funereal garb found me 
burrowing into a small closet   
while bending on one knee, 
and nonchalantly rummaging 

for suitable article of clothing to wear
(per the wake/
sitting shiva of William Zison 
the octogenarian father in law)
an unbeknownst ill fate 
lurked just seconds away 
ready to cap cha an innocent prey
as any unseen observer 
and/or pet would agree.
 
Hands rifled and rustled 
thru various and sundry 
miscellaneous items in one or another box
mostly clothing and other apparel 
draped in coat hangers 
plus a precariously perched 

heavy tin of yarn heavy as rocks
began to teeter from top ledge, 
than made a slow inexorable descent 
in direct path of thy crown 
containing valued mental stocks.

The topmost part of thine skull 
felt impact of sharp metallic rim 
that left an indentation in soft part of scalp – 
more’n an abrasive skim 
and bent circular shape 

of contrivance filled to the hilt 
one law of physics pertaining 
to falling object (taught to me)
acquires greater mass 
accelerating with velocity and vim.

Upon reflexively yet tentatively 
touching raw sore spot
fingertips revealed presence of warm liquid 
soon coagulating into a pulpy gordian knot
from sharp lipped impact registering nausea 
and vertigo quite a lot
hence sewing crafts managed to stitch 
a tattooed laceration forming a bloody clot.

Body writhed with physical torment 
as if being only partially alive
whereby waves of blacking 
or passing out found me swooning 
ready to take a swan dive
nonetheless from Schwenksville 
to Penn Valley, I did 
(by divine grace) safely drive
whence family members and relatives 
once destination reached, the motley crue
began organized car pool arrangements
per heading off to the cemetery, 

which caravan formation  
similar to a human bee hive, 
yours truly declined to go 
communicating persistent distress from mishap
I bowed wowed out, stayed home 
and kept company with a dog 
(purportedly man’s best friend)
(said pet belonging to a friend 
of eldest sister in law), 
whose open palmed overtures 
of mine did not jive.

An impulse found fingers reaching out 
to stroke this unfamiliar animal
supposedly man’s best friend
only to find sharp teeth from canine jaw 
clamped down hard on hand
which second bodily injury, 
I did immediately tend
while bolts of white hot pain 
shot thru lower extremity of palm 
radiated upward through forearm 
into shoulder did wend.
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