Lucky Charm by Donald Vincent

Lucky Charm by Donald Vincent

I inherited the bop in my walk from my great,
great grandpa’s lashings on the farm. So in Whole Foods
I divide aisles, a modern Moses parting white seas.

You’ve been warned by my charm. I crush worlds like Godzilla. False alarm. Keep calm for I won’t cause harm.

People scramble to dodge me, the monster
with the third arm. On trains, they sneak peeks,
look away, and look again at my charm

which is like Uncle Tom, too uncool to take home to moms
so in cars, clubs, and in bathrooms, we-get-it-on-because-of-my-charm.

Hello, you remind me of a fellow by the name of Othello
and if loving you is right, I’ve-been-wrong-all-along-charm.

The take me by the hand because you-want-to-dance-charm.

"Lucky Charms" image by Flickr user Anna Gustafson

“Lucky Charms” image by Flickr user Anna Gustafson

Others clear throats on elevators, then
are you an entertainer questions swarm
while quickly clutching their pocketbooks. I smile
when they look and give-them-a-buck-for-the-hell-of-it-charm.

The once you’ve been charmed, you-never-go-back-charm.

Staying true to my native land, but love to slang the English-language-charm.

February first should be “Give a Thug a Hug” day. Sipping Hennessy
and Remy-Martin-charm.

Prankster and intelligent gangster all-in-one.
No forty acre and a mule, but it’s all good;
I still think we should Occupy-The-Hood-charm.

Don’t stop with the boogie-down, hip-hop music in your McDonald’s
commercial-charm.

The militant yet guilty until proven innocent, so hush, be quiet,
can’t snitch about my kind of charm.

The ones who know won’t tell, and the ones who will tell don’t know.

Can’t look away from it like a soap opera. All my children
raise-themselves-charm.

You knew about it but forgot like last week’s newspaper headline.
I want to whistle whimsical feelings to white women, Emmett Till’s charm.

The charm that shines is the charm that blinds.


donaldvincentDonald Vincent teaches Freshman Composition at Emerson College. He is the creator of Mr. Hip Presents, a reading series that infuses poetry, spoken word, and jazz features in art galleries in the Boston area. When he’s not in a classroom or tea shop, he can most likely be found scouring the world of Instagram and Twitter. His poems appear or are forthcoming in Stone Highway Review, Boston Poetry Magazine, Eunoia Review, and Soundings Review. You can find him online at his website, DearDonaldVincent.com, and on Twitter @mr_hip.