A Broken Whit (early 1990's)

I would dare to say that
it is not lucky to die and that
it is not lucky to be born the luck
is contingent upon the placement
corporally, and in time, of said
birth or death
And even then you're only lucky
once you get going and before
you croak
The beginning is a moment, a drop
of water in a whirlpool which
doesn't drain, and the end is
salt water blanching a rock, instant
erosion, a lightswitch flicked
rendering the floodlit corners dark

Luck is a muscled back, a smooth
undulating rhythm, a nice voice, and
luck (despite our protestations to the
contrary) can, like a back, rhythm, or voice,
broken be.