Ambiguous days left ajar at dusk; unread
papers, unopened envelopes, airtight, sound.
Once-this-lifetime offers declined
too good to be believed.
If myths teach us anything
it is that the oracles' pronouncements,
cryptic and clouded, reveal just enough detail
to cause trouble, like knowing the right
amount of Russian to be drawn
into a conversation that devolves to a riddle.
Where we accidentally conjure the crux, live
out the paradox where fate rarely ends well.