Pounce the Spirit

My PhD in Eschatology,
is useless. I’ll gnash teeth
with the rest you-all. Forty-
six and not expecting
in 2029.
Only the wicked are diagnosed
triskaidekaphobes, given pills,
reprimanded, reminded
better to be silent than negative.
11, 38, 91, 125, 144, 163, 194…
today—bolide out there, fired
on time, every twenty-six,
except for the sleepy period
between 38 and 91. [...]