Ambiguous Blessings

I appreciate that I have not yet fallen
through this ice, my legs dangling
like some helpless water strider
who punctures the river’s skin, is
surprised to find an artery within.

Nor have I bitten into a rotten potato
just when I was about to say something
important that could change all of
our lives — about a job promotion,
say, or a slowly approaching tornado.

I have never developed cancer in some
body part of which I was only dimly aware,
though I know some others who have, and
in some cases it has killed them — so
I’m not sure whether to count this one.

But anyway, not every bad thing that
could happen has happened — though
there’s still a lot of daylight left,
and anything could still come and
knock me over, off my high horse,

send it skittering away, uncertain
whether to return and nose my pockets
for sugar cubes or tramp a hole
in my chest while I lie in the dirt,
counting my ambiguous blessings.

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