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.)
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