Omens used to come early in the morning
(I never managed to see what messenger
Pushed them through the mail slot). The envelopes
Were grey, with no return address. Inside would be
Almost anything – a green feather, say,
With futhark words inked carefully on the shaft,
Or a used match or a pottery shard
And a slip: “this omen packed by 346”
Once I got a series of numbers which,
When dialed, rang through to Fufluns’ voicemail
I left a message but he never called back.
When I asked him about this, years later,
He told me he knew nothing about it.
(He was off duty then, and mostly sober.)