Predictions have been honed to a science:
not just the date, but the hour
and minute color will explode on the
swamp maples of New England.
Do results match anticipation?
The way a man rotates a peach
and between one bite and the next
the nectar turns sickly sweet, small bursts
of ethylene gas filling his cheeks.
And what of other predictions?
Testing for the BRCA2 gene has led some
young women to have their breasts removed.
Is it better to be forewarned or to wait
and take your chances?
Driving to work I pass a house with a sign
planted where flowers should be:
Know your future it says; I’ve never dared go in.
My mother twice came back from the dead.
She never read her horoscope, nor knocked on wood.
Instead, one afternoon she announced
I’m tired. We knew what that meant.
The green would soon give way to yellow.