The ocean was heavy, white ridged,
like the malachite stone charm
I kept in my jeans pocket for luck
that never came. I glimpsed that fallen foal,
contorted like the branches of a willow
weeping into charcoal clouds.
Wild-eyed and crazy as any Picasso horse,
it was curled on that outcrop of cliff,
writhing, eyes sorrowful in the wet morning,
Luck That Never Came
Selina Whiteley is a human rights activist and feminist from a family of color. Her poems have been published in the books Up to Our Necks in It and The Kaleidoscope Chronicles as well as in magazines, including Literary Veganism.