Last Unlucky Day

A Poem by Brian Rowe

Last Unlucky Day

by Brian Rowe

Patrick stands quietly at the edge of the rocky cliff

The winds pick up, the waves of the water roars

He’s never found this day to be in any way unlucky

Friday the 13th, it’s always been a sort of holiday

Inspiration to put on a favorite horror film

Or take a chance on something he’s afraid of

There’s something lovely about this unlucky day

Especially today, since this is the last one of all

The last time he’ll think of that iconic hockey mask

The last time he’ll remember his dad’s laugh, his mom’s face

The last time he’ll smile about a brief life well spent

The pain is too unbearable, and he can no longer fight it

He wonders if it will hurt when he lands, or if he’ll feel nothing

Maybe, just maybe, today he’ll be one of the lucky ones

—

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