Laura Klinkon




The number of frozen cranberries

to drop into your cereal

depends upon the numinous number

of your astrological house, as

any certified seer will tell you.


Mine is in the third house,

meaning I should pop in three—

a disappointing, miserly number,

which I adjust—at first by adding

three again—except that, the number six,


residing in the sixth house, and having

a negative numen, must be counter-

balanced by one more—making seven

cranberries—and returning positive

karma, delightfully, to my buckwheat.


I’ll not disclose the zodiacal

signs these numbers represent,

as this may prejudice your opinion

and upset your focus on this key

calculation, you fully knowing your sign,

though not your house assignation.


In time, you’ll retrieve this datum to

reckon how many cranberries are

cosmically optimal: why I’m advocating—

no, illuminating—this foolproof algorithm.

Depending on your sign and ingenuity,

you could garner cranberries galore,

while merely experimenting!


It’s a celestial, dawn-delivered formula

for beginning your day—unless, be warned,

you’re adding blueberries which if dreamed of

beforehand, cannot be computed, for

they obfuscate decision making, placing

you, ominously, on the dark side of the moon.



Laura Klinkon was born in Sicily, emigrating with her parents at five years old. She has a B.A. and M.A. in Languages and Literature from the University of Pittsburgh and American University, and has worked in editing, writing, and translating in Washington, D.C., New York City, and Rochester, N.Y. She has published a full-length book of poetry, Trying to Find You (2013),and two chapbooks, Kitchen Abrasives (2017) and Looking Askance (2017).   Last year, Laura was granted a residence by the Library of Rome, and the resulting Italian translation of sonnets by Edna St. Vincent Millay, The Silent Lyre/La Lira Silente (2018), is now available on and other bookstores.