Lottery - Heather M. Browne

There’s a dark side of ripples
stretching right below the light
not where it wants to be
a shade shy of a sparkle
and too far over the edge

Everything wants to be chosen
your mouth
a numbered bingo ball
or jack trapped in his box
his arms folded unable to reach

Dragonfly feet land flat on glass
their abdomen balanced and stable
No need to cross rough waters
no dividing of the Red Sea
for those not chosen

I say my prayers
cross my fingers
get distracted wishing on stars
or cracking open stale cookies
looking for my fortune
Destiny sometimes comes on paper scraps.

Pleading for the purple gumball
winning the lottery
or you to finally pull out your hand
from your jean pocket
realizing all I’ve ever wanted
is you
grabbing that gold ring
and asking me for mine

Heather M. Browne is a faith-based psychotherapist, recently nominated for the Pushcart Award, published in the Orange Room, Boston Literary Review, Page & Spine, Eunoia Review, Poetry Quarterly, Red Fez, Electric Windmill, Apeiron, The Lake, Knot, mad swirl.  Red Dashboard published two collections: Directions of Folding and Altar Call of Trumpets.