Enlightenment

Sitting alone,
He sneezes to silence.
Cat fur blackens his jeans at the shins.
His horoscope kindles in the fireplace.
He empties his pockets—
Friction has shed his rabbit's foot of its hair and usefulness;
His clover has wilted brown.
Everything burns.
Behind, below a broken chandelier, a ladder's shadow flickers over him.
He runs his feet across the cracks in the marble floor
And feels the tiny crystals of salt he spilled there earlier.
He yawns with his hands at his side
As silverfish feast within the dusty bible on his lap.