This month's open mic topic is 'superstition', I couldn't bring myself to do black cats, ladders and mirrors, so I came up with this instead;
The Ace of Spades
He always tied his laces in exactly the same way,
then he'd open his top left pocket
and put the photo away.
He'd pat the lucky picture
as he went out through the door
then stamp his feet twice upon the dusty floor.
His helmet bore his blood group,
his rifle the number 7
but he always broke to the right
and now he's up in heaven.
For the dickers had been dicking
and his habits, they'd espied
his silly superstitions
we're the reason that he died.
In the grass below his tombstone
a bunch of leaves did sprout
a patch of four leaf clover;
his luck's at last run out.
John Carré Buchanan
10 June 2016